Battlestar Galactica The Hephaestus Chronicles
by Firematt97
Summary: This fan fiction is about the career of Galactica viper pilot Matthew “Hephaestus” Lensherr, from his early days as a farmer and firefighter on the colony Aerilon, to his current assignment as Silver Spar's squadron leader aboard the Battlestar Galactica.
1. Chapter 1

**Author: Matthew C. Manni**

**Email: **

**Rating: M**

**Genre: Science Fiction**

**Battlestar Galactica – The Hephaestus Chronicles**

_**Editor's note****: This fan fiction is about the career of Galactica viper pilot Matthew "Hephaestus" Lensherr, from his early days as a farmer and firefighter on the colony Aerilon, to his current assignment as Silver Spar's squadron leader aboard the Battlestar Galactica. Lensherr is a non-canon character of the BSG storyline that got his start in "Earth 2010 – The Colonies of Kobol Reunited," and continued in the subsequent "Galactica 2010 – The Fleet Reborn," and "Battlestar Galactica – Avengement" fan fictions which you can read here on the FANFICTION website. Enjoy.**_

Chapter 1.

The colony _**Aerilon, **_known as the "food basket" of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol was one of the poorer colonies in the system. A hardscrabble world that produced men and women of steely strength and grit, honed by the tough and usually dirty work of farming. The inhabitants of this colony seldom left the world of their birth, farms handed down generation to generation, son or daughter. The natives spoke with a thick, guttural sounding voice that was often misunderstood by non-Aerilonians.

Along the river Euclid lay a sprawling dairy farm, measuring three hectares, or three hundred acres. The rocky land is dotted with smaller ponds and streams that drew cattle to them daily. The Lensherr dairy farm was by far one of the largest on the planet, but not _the _largest. The majority of cattle produced milk for sale, with the rest producing beef for several of the closer colonies. Matthew Lensherr was eighteen years of age and had never been off world. He was the middle of three children, and knew at an early age that farming was _not_ in his future. Despite furious efforts by his father to instill upon him the honorable, and vital importance of dairy farming to the colonies, deep down he knew that his destiny lay out there, in the stars above.

Today was no different than any other day on the farm, today a transport from _Tauron_ would be arriving at the spaceport, six hours southwest of the Lensherr farm to pick up fifty tons of beef freshly butchered by the on-site meat cutters in a large windowless building in the north corner of the farm near the highway. Matthew Lensherr's job was to drive the massive transport truck six hours to the spaceport, where upon delivery the agreed upon amount of cubits would be wired to the bank account held by the family. Matt usually volunteered for this duty, anything to get him off that farm and into some semblance of civilization. He steered the truck with his left leg as both hands grasped a copy of the day's _Aerilon Gazette. _The lead story for the county was about the death of local farm hand due to a malfunctioning combine, that gruesome story was followed by the winner of a cattle competition.

"Ugghhh...frakking fish-wrapper was a waste of cubits." Lensherr cursed as he balled up the paper and tossed it onto the floor of the passenger side of the truck. "There has _got_ to be a better life for me than this!" At eighteen, Matthew Lensherr was one of the few his age that knew beyond doubt that his future did not include farming. His older brother took to farming like he was genetically bred to do so, while his sister who was three years his junior harbored no feelings on farming one way or the other. His father was not wealthy, but lived comfortably, and could easily afford to replace him. The six hour trip was over sooner than he wished as he pulled within visual range of the city where the spaceport was located. The city was called Greer, and it was the only source of civilization in a thousand kilometers. With a population of 1,668,267, Greer was one of the major cities on the small planet. It boasted a large spaceport and numerous processing plants that employed thousands.

As the city grew in population, the need for more housing became imperative, and housing units were built at an incredible pace, with safety and structural integrity not always the chief concern by the construction company owners. Public safety institutions were slow to expand as the population itself expanded. Crime was high, as where the occasional fire and collapse of poorly constructed housing units. The mayor of Greer often sought help from Colonial Marine units based on Aerilon to fight crime, but the regional marine commandant was uneasy about using the military for policing civilians. In the end, a major recruiting drive for firefighters and law enforcement officers was implemented. One such recruitment drive billboard was prominently displayed upon entering the city limits; a good looking, muscular young man dressed in a sharp black uniform with crimson piping standing with arms crossed in front of a large parked fire apparatus. The words "_We serve to save lives and property_." Matt slowed to a stop before the two-story advertising board. The shiny red pumper truck was sharper than any Mk. IV viper he had seen, not that he saw many Colonial vipers up close and personal. He had seen some of the sleek Mk. IV's at an airshow last year, marveled at their beauty. At this moment, the fire pumper was all he could think of.

**Spaceport slip #72**

The transfer of the beef from the truck to the cargo hold took roughly two hours of strenuous activity, Matt was soaked to the skin, and his muscles ached something fierce. He handed the ship captain a bulky clipboard that had an antenna array and card slot. The captain withdrew a gold card from his breast pocket and inserted it into the slot. A stream of red lights flashed across the top of the board for thirty seconds before all six lights turned green. "Cubit transfer complete, our account has your deposit, pleasure doing business with you captain!" said Matt offering his hand to the shady-looking captain of the transport ship _Tolarr _who merely nodded. While walking back to his truck cab, Matt couldn't help but wonder what other types of cargo the sleazy-looking captain of the _Tolarr_ had transported over the years. The transfer had left him hungry, and he decided to grab a bite to eat at a nearby cafe.

Sitting at the outside tables, Matt had let the warm sun shine on his tanned face, soaking in the peace and quiet before the long ride back to the farm. A commotion to his right caught his attention, people were running towards something around the corner. Casually grabbing his sandwich he leaped over the waist-high railing and followed the crowd. As he rounded the corner he could smell smoke, fifty yards ahead he could see thick black smoke pouring out of the second floor window of an apartment complex. The sound of sirens grew louder, and soon the screams grew louder as bystanders pointed up. Three stories above the fire floor a woman holding a scared toddler filled the window. The fire had cut off their escape route, and the flames were making their way up floor by floor. Unknown to anyone there, but would eventually be discovered by arson investigators, the construction of the apartment complex was so substandard that fire stops were purposely left out between floors. The flames traveled through the walls vertically, unhindered by crucial flame-retardant stops between floors.

"_Omigods, there's somebody trapped up there!_" screamed a bystander. Matt looked on horrified as wisps of smoke started to puff out from the window the mother and child were standing in. Like the dozens of people around him, Matt felt helpless to do anything. An explosion blew out a window on the fourth floor directly beneath the woman and child, her screams for help were mixed with choking from the acrid smoke billowing up beneath her. The pumper was first to arrive, pulling past the structure in order to get a look at at least three angles of the building on fire. The driver of the pumper left enough room for the massive truck containing a large ladder attached to a revolving platform to pull in front of the building, just far enough out to extend the ladder. The loud hum of the large outriggers extended two meters out on each side of the truck, they would keep the truck from tipping over once the ladder was extended over to one side. Matt stood their agape as firefighters in full gear and air packs mounted the ladder and climbed. At street level, crews from the pumper truck stretched uncharged hose lines into the building's entry and advanced to the fire floor, signaling for the line to be charged with water once they had reached the fire itself. He was struck at how well the firefighters acted as a team. His heart raced as he watched these...heroes, attempt to save a the lives of the mother and child. Within a minute that seemed like an eternity, the mother and child were rescued amidst the roar of cheers. At that moment, Matthew Lensherr's life had changed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

**Lensherr Family Farm**

"A fire fighter?" exclaimed the elder Lensherr incredulously. "You want to go to Greer to work as a fire fighter, you mean to actually run _into_ a burning building that sane people are running _out_ of?"

"You're angry." replied Matt, more statement than question. The discussion was taking place at the dinner table, a place where the day's events, colony politics and family trials and tribulations took place on a daily basis. Avery Lensherr was from a long line of farmers on Aerilon, he was a strict, yet extremely fair father to his children. Expecting nothing less than honesty, integrity, compassion and hard work from his children. No topic was usually off limits, and the sun weathered fifty year old Lensherr who was in incredible shape for his age, often encouraged his children to be free-thinkers.

"Not angry, Matt...just disappointed. For a small colony we are considered the food basket for the twelve colonies, something I consider a great honor, and huge responsibility." The elder Lensherr pushed his half-eaten dinner forward and took a small sip from the pint of bitter Aerilonian ale that was a staple of a farmer's diet. "Greer is so....busy, everyone is in a rush to do gods know what." said Avery with a slight level of disgust in his voice.

"This life isn't for me. Nothing against farming, it's important and all that, but it's just not for me." said Matt, trying hard not to disappoint his father any more than he already had. He was surprised when his father stood up.

"Walk with me, Matthew!" said his father as he shot a glance towards his wife who sat quietly through the exchange. The two men walked out into the cool night air and walked out towards one of the barns. They walked in silence for awhile, listening to the sounds of crickets and other nightlife. The stars shone brilliantly, illuminating their path. Stopping at a section of fencing, Avery looks at his young son. "Matt...your mother and I have expected this conversation for at least six years now." announced the elder Lensherr.

"What...you have?" said Matt surprised.

Avery laughed. "You act as if your mother and I are blind, Matthew. Anyone with eyes could see that your heart and mind are elsewhere." Matt looked down at his feet, surprised that his father read him so easily. "Don't feel bad, you're not the first son to chafe at farming, or decide not to follow in their family profession. You must go where your heart leads, and if it leads you away from the farm we will respect and support that decision. You're a man now, legally you are now free of my care. I hope that we raised you with all of the positive attributes that will guide you through your life's journeys."

"Farming has been such an important part of our family, and its with no ill feelings that I leave it...I just need to follow my own path. What I saw in Greer made me feel alive with a purpose, and I want to follow it...wherever it leads me." said Matt.

"Then do so, and know that your family loves and supports you. Whatever happens in Greer, there will always be a place for you at our table." His father aid as he clasped Matt's shoulders, father and son continued to walk along the starlit trail, talking for hours. The next day Avery Lensherr drove his son into Greer and waited while his some entered the headquarters of Greer Fire Corps to fill out the application.

The application process was soon followed by the hiring process, and within six months, farmer Matthew Lensherr was now firefighter candidate Matthew Lensherr. Fire Corps academy was an intense three month course made up of rigorous calisthenics, the science or pyrolysis, and firefighting tactics. With the city of Greer continuously expanding, the need for new construction crept into what was previously neighboring wasteland, an area not conducive to agriculture.

Lensherr's academy consisted of thirty mostly male candidates from neighboring communities. Many of these young people were either farmers, or drifters that came from other colonies in search of work that was found in abundance on the the farming planet of Aerilon. Farming was incredibly hard work, and those that traveled from other worlds once there, and were unfortunate enough to find that they had made a big mistake, had little else to do. As major shipping hubs and processing plants were built to keep up with the demand, newer jobs were created. This morning's class began like any other class, with a five mile run through the Carmanor Valley. The temperature was already over eighty degrees, and Matt knew that this was going to be a brutal day when they had to gear up later in the afternoon. This valley was named after a harvest god, but the only thing this valley was harvesting was the sweat and strength from those being forced to run through it. Fire Corps officers ran alongside the candidates, screaming at those falling behind like mad drill instructors. Upon arrival back at the training grounds, each candidate took turns rotating out of assignments on pumper trucks, ladder trucks and special equipment trucks.

"Hey swine farmer, you a long way from home, or what boy?" The unmistakably annoying voice of cadet Barron soared above sound of the pumper truck's water pump. Barron was a drifter from Tauron, his tattooed body was a source of great pride for him, and he used it to menace those he thought inferior to him.

"I see you didn't get any tattoos for your powers of observation there, did you _dirt eater_?" Dirt eater was a racial slur directed at Tauron people, the slur took its name from a sad time during the war when sick and suffering Taurons were forced to eat dirt for nourishment when cuts to the supply lines left them famished. Matt knew such crudity would never have been allowed under his father's roof, but he was no longer under his father's roof, and in Barron's case he would make the exception. "Otherwise you'd frakking know that the majority of farms in this area of Aerilon raise cattle." added Lensherr.

The Tauron's speed was incredible, he closed the gap between them within three quick steps, grabbing Matt by his collar. "Wrong thing to say to a Tauron, Lensherr." snarled Barron. The large fist streaked towards Matt who snapped his head to the left just in time. Barron's fist struck the steel and glass instrument panel full force. The sound of bone shattering was unmistakable, and Barron relaxed his grip on Matt just enough for him to break free and follow up with a punch to the jaw, causing Barron 's head to snap back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Evidently you ladies have enough time on your hands to frak around instead of train." came a new voice. The lead instructor had been sitting upon the back step of the ladder truck observing the incident in silence. Like Lensherr, he detested the Tauron Barron, but as an instructor he had to treat all equally. "Listen up you frakwads, I'll only say this once. Taurons, Aerilonians, Capricans, Picons, Gemonese...it doesn't frakking matter! Here you are all equally worthless piles of daggit felgercarb. You're all here for one reason, and one reason only...to become members of the fire corps. You are to save lives, and property...period. Those of you who do not pass this academy will be sent back to whatever hole you crawled out of, do I make myself clear?" After receiving the acknowledgment he sought he walked over to Lensherr and Barron, who was now picking himself off the ground. "Lensherr and Barron...time to grab your running shoes!" Lensherr thought this was going to be a long academy.

**One year later – Greer City Fire Corps**

The pumper thundered down Ares causeway, lights and sirens clearing the path before it as it responded to the third structure fire of the week. Looking out of the window, newly minted firefighter Matthew Lensherr sized up the situation. This fire was going to be a frakking bitch he thought to himself. The pumper pulled up and fully past the structure in order for the officer in charge to get a clear view of all sides of the building. He brought his finger up to the transmit button on the side of his protective helmet.

"Dispatch – Pumper Six is on scene of a three story brick building, heavy smoke showing from side two of the second and third floors...over."

"Pumper six – dispatch...message received, three story brick with heavy smoke from side two of the second and third floors."

Matt had jumped out of the truck in full gear, air pack strapped firmly to his back and "irons" in hand. Each back step firefighter was issued a set of "irons" that consisted of an ax and forcible entry tool. The pumper itself contained over one thousand gallons of water to be used to attack the flames. The officer waved away the irons and ordered Matt to stretch an attack line to the entrance. "Alright nugget, we'll advance the empty hose line to the fire floor and then charge it! Why do we do that?" queried the officer.

"A fully charged hose line is a bitch to advance up stairs and around corners. Advance an uncharged line right to the fire floor, leaving yourself enough slack, then charge it." replied Lensherr.

"Abso-frakking-lutely nugget, we'll make a firefighter of you yet." The two men advanced the hose line to the fire floor and prepared to don their face masks that would allow them to breath air and keep the toxic, super-heated gases out of their lungs.

"Command to pumper six crew...over." The senior officer who was in command of the entire fire ground called out to the crew as they got ready to have their line charged.

"Go ahead command!" replied the officer.

"Be advised that we have a report of people still in the building. I"m sending in the rapid response team and ladder crew to assist in S & R...over."

"Pumper six to command...message received. Advise the next due pumper crew that we have a hand line waiting for them up here, all they need to do is charge it." replied the officer. He faced Lensherr with a look of dead seriousness in his eyes. "Alright nugget, we've gone from suppression to search and rescue. Keep your ears open and stay on my ass. Switch your visor settings over to t_hermal imaging_." The face shield of the air pack's mask is equipped with the ability to detect infrared light emitted from an object when on the proper setting. When the camera lenses built into the side of the mask capture an image they capture the thermal infrared light emitted from that object, allowing a firefighter to "see" a victim through thick, blinding, black smoke without having to hold a heavy, bulky camera or other device.

The two men crawled on their hands and knees through every room on the fire floor, starting on the right hand side. They would call out to any victims, then straining to hear for a reply. The heat was incredible, even through their protective gear. The chances of an unshielded human surviving such heat and toxic smoke was slim. They came to a closed door and attempted entry, finally forcing their way through they found themselves in a large bathroom. In that bathroom visibility was fair, and nowhere near as smoke-filled as the hallway. Two women were quickly spotted holding wet towels over their mouths, attempting to filter out some of the smoke that had crept into the room despite their best efforts to block small openings such as under the door and ventilation shafts.

"Oh thank the gods you found us!" sobbed one woman hysterically. Matt had quickly shut the door before any more toxic smoke entered the room. They were twenty meters deep into the building, even if the women could hold their breath and run back to the entrance they would not survive the incredible heat outside the protection of the bathroom, protection that was quickly slipping away as the fire grew in intensity.

"Pumper six to command, we have two females on the fire floor, both conscious and were holed up in the head. Can we get that attack line down the main hallway to knock down some of this fire?"

"Command to pumper six, the line is being charged as we speak."

"Alright ladies, we can't get you out of here until the fire gets knocked down, we're gonna hold fast."

The older of the two women coughed, a look of concern on her face. "The air is getting thinner, we can't wait much longer!"

"No choice lady, we can't get you down that hallway, we need to stay here." Matt walked around the ladies room, searching for any windows to the outside, or secondary means of egress. He removed his glove, placing the back of his hand against the opposite wall, it was cool to the touch. The radio squawked with new life.

"Command to pumper six crew...be advised that pumper six's pump has gone down, we can't sustain fire suppression to your location." This was not good news, while they had fresh air to breath, the two civilians did not, and even if they decided to break fire corps standard operating procedures prohibiting a firefighter from sharing his mask with a victim, they still could not leave this room due to the high heat. The two women would be dead before they reached the end of the hallway. The officer shot Lensherr a side glance, this was not good. Even if they shared their air with the women, they couldn't possibly last long enough for a second pumper to be brought in to replace the one out of service. The officer instructed Matt to let one of the ladies draw fresh air from his mask, and he did the same. An idea had quickly struck Matt.

"Captain, what are the requirements for upright spacing in commercial walls?"

"Sixteen inches on center, why?" he replied. Matt took a long hard look at the wall he just felt. He was holding an ax, earlier he had used the handle end to increase his reach when sweeping the darkened floor for victims. He walked over to the wall and used the butt end to tap the wall searching for the upright studs behind the plaster.

"Breach?" asked the captain. Matt nodded and hefted the ax over his shoulder. He brought the sharp edge down straight through the plaster. He preceded to open up the wall between the upright studs that the plaster boards were attached to. The other side was a thick tile wall. After checking for heat he then used the flat part of the ax to batter through that wall. Within a minute, Lensherr had broke through the tile wall to another part of the first floor. He started to strip off his gear, and was finally down to his duty uniform. With great effort he was able to squeeze his body through the sixteen inch opening, the jagged tile making a bloody mess of his exposed skin. Once through, he did a quick recon and returned to the opening to give a thumbs up to those still within.

"Captain, I've entered what seems to be an access corridor that's independent from the main hallway on the fire floor. We can get out through here!" Matt did his best to clean up the jagged edges prior to the ladies squeezing their much smaller bodies through. They exited without a scratch. The captain had passed Lensherr's gear through the narrow opening, and then preceded to remove his own gear. The smoke was quickly filling the bathroom, as well as the heat. Smoke slowly made its way through the breach and into the new hallway. Once through the opening, the two firefighters slid a large storage cabinet they found down the hallway up against the opening, trying to keep the smoke and heat contained in the bathroom. Within minutes they came across a three by five foot window that overlooked side four of the building. Immediately after radioing their position to command, an extension ladder was placed just under the window sill, allowing the firefighters of pumper six to safely evacuate the building with the women. A successful rescue, and within a half hour, the fire was completely contained.

For the entire ride back to the fire house Matt's mind swirled with images from the fire, and subsequent rescue. He knew he did an outstanding job for a nugget, and that rumors were abound that the f_arm boy from Aerilon_ was slowly a rising star in the corps. He also knew not to let such comments go to his head, there was nothing worse than a cocky nugget. Once the truck was backed into the fire house, and gear stowed, Matt made his way up to the living quarters to grab a bite to eat, he was famished. Walking into the kitchen he noticed several members of his crew congregating at the corner of the kitchen, all staring at him. The shot to his back caught him completely by surprise, he rolled across the empty floor which up until this morning contained a kitchen table.

The water stream, mercifully was not discharged from a solid bore nozzle, but from a fog nozzle. The fog nozzle was a type of firefighting hose nozzle that breaks down the water that flows through it into tiny droplets of water. The belief being that small droplets of water create more surface area than a solid stream created by a smooth bore nozzle. The water absorbs the heat, turns into steam, and displaces the oxygen, resulting in suppressing the fire. In Matt Lensherr's case, the fog nozzle was used in a celebratory dousing for a job well done, and to commemorate his first rescue. Bracing himself against the far wall he caught a glimpse of his own officer manning the fire hose, a wide grin plastered across his face. Shutting down the bale gently, the water vanished leaving Matt soaked to the skin, and a kitchen floor with an inch of water."Good job Lensherr...as of this moment you're no longer a lowly frakking nugget." The rest of the crew clapped, and a hand appeared to help him off the floor. Before he could say a word of thanks a squeegee was thrust into his free hand. "Now get this water cleaned up RFN!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

**Greer City Fire Corps - Four years later**

The last four years had been extremely busy for firefighter Matthew Lensherr. He was now the senior firefighter on his shift, and in another month he would be eligible to take the officer's test. Everyone expected him to not only take the officer's test, but to score high. A fast learner, Lensherr had grasped various tactics with little effort, and his superiors predicted a bright future for the former farmer. As the months and years passed, Greer city continued to expand as the demand for beef grew exponentially across the twelve worlds. Matt sat alone on the rear balcony of the fire house, the stars shone brilliantly this night, and he could feel an incredible sense of awe as he looked up to the heavens, the home of the gods. He stood and positioned himself behind the telescope he had erected hours earlier in anticipation of the cloudless night sky. The door suddenly opened, releasing the pollution of unwanted bright lights from within the station.

"Why am I _not_ surprised to find you out here?" The voice grated on Matt's nerves, it belonged to Barron, the Tauron that he had gone to fire corps school with. He swore that it was either a sick sense of humor by the gods, or payback for some unknown slight to humanity to be assigned to the same fire house with this son of a daggit. With his night vision temporarily compromised, Matt spun around to face the intruder.

"What do you want Barron?" asked Matt, not even attempting to hide his annoyance.

"I'm curious, Lensherr!" replied Barron.

"Curious about what?" shot back Matt, arms folded across his chest.

"Why the frak you hang out here by yourself at nights, never coming in to play cards, or socialize with the other members of the squad. Are you antisocial little frakker or what?" Matt just rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the balcony railing.

"Believe me, my absence from the game, or rec room has nothing to do with the guys, although your foul Tauron presence does provide an incentive to stay away." said Matt sarcastically.

"You sit out here every night we're on duty to all hours, staring up towards the gods only know what. If you're so concerned about the stars what the frak are you doing here on Aerilon? Why don't you just get up and go then?" said Barron with a note of complete sincerity in his voice.

"Well one, what am I supposed to do, strap on a set of wings and fly out of here? Two...what the frak do you care _what_ I do or _why_?" Matt already knew the answer to the second question, Barron would love nothing more than to see him out of the station and off the corps, believing that would make his top dog in their group.

"I have nothing to lose by being honest with you, farm boy. As long as you're still here I'm never going to rise to the top slot. You _know_ I'm the better firefighter, and you also know as well as I that they'll never give a Tauron a fair shot at anything on this gods-forsaken planet. With you gone, they'd have no choice but to promote me."

Matt just shook his head in mild disbelief. "You're delusional Barron, it has _nothing_ to do with you being a Tauron, and _everything_ to do with you just being a plain old, hubristic frakking asshole that overcompensates for his own deep-rooted insecurities by being over-the-top, loud and obnoxious. If you took a moment, stepped back and actually tried not to feel the need to have to impress other people than you'd probably make a decent member of the corps." Matt had obviously struck a chord with Barron, because for a moment it had appeared that the Tauron would fly into a fit of rage.

He quickly composed himself and spoke. "You're entitled to your own opinion, even if it is frakking warped. Not that I owe you anything farm boy, but I hear that there is a Battlestar group due to arrive at Aerilon by week's end. Battlestar group 41 to be exact."

"Really, why would they come to the outer colonies?" Asked Matt. "Nothing happens on this gods-forsaken planet!"

"Word on the street is that they're recruiting, sounds like a good opportunity for someone who can't keep his eyes off the stars." With that explanation, Barron left the balcony and returned back to the inside of the firehouse, slamming the door on his way in. Matt had never seen a Battlestar before, never mind an entire group. Aerilon was not exactly known for being a destination spot for the work horses of the Colonial fleet, a Warstar or a lesser military transport maybe, but not one of the massive Colonial Battlestars. Aerilon's biggest spaceport was twelve hours away by land -based vehicle, he decided he would take a few days off vacation and go check things out.

**Battlestar Group 41 – Battlestar _Valkyrie_ on final approach to Aerilon**

In the combat information center, otherwise known as the CIC, Commander William Adama had just arrived to relieve the third watch officer. As usual, he was five minutes early. The junior officer of the deck, known as the JOOD handed the commander the night's log for him to sign off on. After properly relieving the JOOD, Adama walked over to the tactical station, checking his chronometer. "Good morning ensign, are we ready to start our day?"

"Good morning commander, all set for reveille."

"Hit it!" replied Adama as he took a pull from his ceramic mug containing a smooth-tasting Caprican blend of coffee. Typing in a few keystrokes, the ensign manning the tactical station sounded reveille for the first watch of the day. Soft white lights dimmed low throughout the crew's quarters flashed bright as the PA System crackled to life.

"_Reveille, reveille, reveille...first watch has begun, all first watch crew are to report to their duty stations." _Much to the chagrin of those still sleeping, the wake up call was broadcast two more times as crew members rolled out of their bunks to start their new day. Executive officer Saul Tigh sat on the edge of his bunk eying the half empty bottle sitting on the nightstand. The bright green liquid beckoned him as he reached for the tall ceramic mug with the initials "XO" etched on the side. Pulling the cork off the bottle he poured himself a generous amount. Thinking better of it, he poured a quarter of the amount back into the bottle and took a sip from the mug. The alcohol was warm as it traveled through his body, Tigh started to come alive. After completing his morning ritual in the bathroom, he exited his private stateroom in his freshly pressed duty uniform and headed for the chow hall to grab a quick bite to eat before heading for the CIC.

"Good morning colonel!" greeted the specialist from behind the counter.

"Whats so frakking good about it, specialist?" grunted Tigh as he scanned the morning's fare on display. Looking up he requested his "usual" which was already in the process of being prepared for him. Every member of the mess hall knew it was in their best interest to not keep the executive officer waiting for very long, especially if he had already "started off the day early." A term used to describe Tigh once he started drinking. Finishing off his chow, he brought his now-empty coffee mug over to the coffee cart and filled it with the strongest black coffee available. After glancing about discreetly, he took out a small silver flask and poured a small amount of green liquid into the coffee.

The walk to CIC was uneventful, with having to return numerous salutes from passing crewmen, Tigh finally arrived at his destination, the thick glass doors with Valkyrie's emblem etched onto them slid open. As usual, his old friend, and commanding officer was already on duty and standing by the plotting table. "Morning Bill." said Tigh as he picked up the log from third watch.

"Good morning Saul." replied Adama with a hint of cheer. He knew Saul hated the mornings, and was usually miserable for the first few hours. "We're on final approach to Aerilon." informed Adama.

"Aerilon! Said Tigh shaking his head in mild disgust. "Dirty mud ball, why in the name of the gods we were sent here to be the poster child for recruitment for a bunch of farmers is beyond me. And to make matters worse we're actually landing?"

"The brass at Picon fleet headquarters thought a Battlestar would make a great backdrop." replied Adama, himself unsure of the wisdom of the assignment.

"Hmmph...don't these jackasses know how difficult, and expensive it is to land a Battlestar on one of those half-assed space ports?"

"Take it easy old friend, Aerilon's space port is more than capable of accommodating a Battlestar. We'll be here for two days max, perhaps you can take shore leave?"

"Shore leave?" laughed Tigh, "what the hell am I supposed to do down there, milk cows? No commander, I think I'll stay right up here with the old girl, and let you enjoy Aerilon." The two old friends laughed and started to discuss the days events. The remainder of Battlestar group 41 would continue on to the inner colonies at cruising speed while Valkyrie completed her assignment.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Matt had gotten to the hall two hours early in the hopes of getting a decent seat. The guest speaker would be a Battlestar commander he never heard of; William Adama. Not that he actually knew of any. There were a few Battlestar commanders of notoriety such as Helena Cain of the _Pegasus_ and James Jonasson of the _Triton, _they occasionally made the news, but other than that, Matt Lensherr was fairly ignorant of the "players" in the Colonial Military. The farmer's hall was where the recruitment drive was taking place, it was six miles from the space port, but had an unobstructed view and the massive _Valkyrie_ was in full display even from that far out. The hall was festooned with military flags, and six booths were set up along the route to the lecture hall where Adama would be speaking. These booths contained different branches of the military. There was the Colonial Marine corps, the intelligence branch, Viper academy, fleet and medical booths, along with one he hadn't gotten to yet, but knew was not one of the glitzier jobs of the military. Matt was highly impressed, whoever put this together went all out to impress. Colonial officers in full dress were everywhere, as were viper pilots from the _Valkyrie_. The biggest attraction, and biggest line was for the Viper Mk. IV simulator, something Matt intended to experience no matter what.

By ten o'clock in the morning, the hall was filled with roughly three hundred people, hardly a packed house. Matt wasn't surprised, this was peacetime, an armistice with the Cylons had long been declared, the Colonial fleet had no threats outside of a growing pirate problem to focus their firepower on. A twenty minute video played on the large screen behind the podium, it was a carefully crafted piece of advertisement for the military, almost bordering on propaganda. Stock footage of Colonial vipers flying in formation, heavily-armed black outfitted marines charging a beach head, Battlestars patrolling the cosmos, ever watchful for threats to the twelve colonies. Handsome, and physically fit candidates going through the academy, many whom he recognized as models, probably well-paid to extoll the virtues of being in the military. They obviously spared no monetary effort to produce this film.

From the wings, Commander William Adama looked out across the audience, it was about what he expected. Once the video ceased and the house lights came on, he gathered his notes and stepped out onto the stage, walking to the podium. He rapped the microphone twice and cleared his throat. "Good morning, my name is Commander William Adama, from the Battlestar _Valkyrie_. I'm here today to talk to you all about a potential future in the Colonial military. As many of you may know, the colonies have been at peace for over thirty years now, our conflict with the Cylons long past. That is not to say that there are no threats out there," said Adama gesturing towards the sky. "Piracy has been becoming a growing problem that affects everyone. According to records, at least sixty cattle exports from Aerilon itself have been intercepted by pirates in the last two years, and in some cases, reports of the crew being air-locked as the pirates took their ships." Adama had let the last sentence hang there, knowing that it would strike home to many in attendance.

"I would not presume to put piracy on the same threat level as that posed to the Colonies from the Cylons, but it is a growing concern, and we have not even begun to scratch the surface of what lies beyond our star system. For that reason, a strong military force is required, in order to keep our military ever ready we hold the occasional recruitment drive, and I can think of no other colony than Aerilon itself that can boast of the type of physically fit specimen of man and woman who knows what hard work _really_ is." said Adama, his voice booming throughout the hall. Matt had wondered how many lectures this colonial officer gave using the exact same words, but just changing the name of the colony.

Adama continued for another thirty minutes, giving a brief history on the military, its past conquests and variety of professions within the service that young Aerilonians could avail themselves to. Recruiters would be available at the end of the lecture to answer any and all questions, and to make up the minds of those sitting on the fence, something Adama, nor any other military officer would ever admit to. The middle aged Battlestar commander received a thunderous round of applause, and stood by the exit, smiling amiably to all those who exited into the main concourse containing recruiters and their stations. Matt shook hands with Adama and said thank you as he filed out the door. He made a direct line for the viper simulator where only six people were currently in line. After an hour, Matt finally stepped up to the ladder leading up into the cockpit of the starfighter. It was only part of the fuselage, without the wings or top stabilizer, and it was attached to a massive base with giant shock absorbers. The canopy window was blackened, as virtual combat and flight scenes were displayed on the interior of the canopy, simulating what the pilot would see had it been a real viper. A viper pilot clad in his "flight leathers," or "jock smock" handed Lensherr a helmet. It was a bit large, and without the magnetic collar to hold it in place it rolled about his shoulders. It had the stench of sweat from over three dozen previous wearers permeated in the interior fabric. The real viper pilot was manning the control station, and spoke into a lip microphone, which could be heard in the helmet's speakers.

"What you are sitting in is a simulator for the Viper Mk. IV. It is the most advanced space superiority fighter in the Colonial military's arsenal. It is capable rotating 180 degrees vertically in .30 seconds. This is a very nimble fighter, powered by three Voram engines. What we're gonna do is simulate a dogfight with Cylon raiders, and it'll give you an idea of what its like to be a viper pilot." The blackened canopy sealed shut, and only the instrument panel provided any illumination. Within seconds, the interior of the canopy went from pitch black to a moving star field, simulating space flight.

"Mr. Lensherr...the stick in front of you controls the viper, and the thruster pedal at your feet controls the speed of the aircraft. In real life there are many more controls you need to master, but for this exercise we're limiting you to two. Get a feel for the fighter, and in a minute I'll enter the raiders."

Matt had moved the control stick side to side, he was amazed at how comfortable it felt in his hand, how easily the fighter responded to his gentle touch. He increased speed with the thruster pedal and brought the viper into a barrel roll. His joyride soon came to an end with the loud chirping of the screen before him. Six objects were right behind him, and closing fast.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

"Alright smoke-eater, whatcha gonna do now? You have just become the proud owner of six Cylon raiders on your ass." said the viper pilot. He had decided to have a little fun with the firefighter from Greer, siccing six bandits on him right out of the gate. Tracer rounds streaked past him on both sides, and the first thought that went through Matt's head was what the frak was he going to do now?

_Alright Matt, slow down...breathe. _He thought, gripping the stick tightly, Matt depressed the thruster pedal deeper until he put some distance between him and the lead raider. Unaccustomed to multi-tasking in a fighter, Matt felt his pulse quicken, speed and distance would be his friend. He didn't want to waste his limited time in the simulator running, so he decided to throw caution to the wind. Once he had a decent lead on his pursuers he flipped end over end, now facing towards the raiders in an inverted position. He squeezed the trigger on his kinetic energy weapons, known as KEWs, sending a burst of fire down range, striking the lead raider dead on. The raider exploded violently, and the remaining five broke formation, splitting off.

"Whoa smoke-eater, not bad at all!' came the voice over the helmet speaker. A smile crept across Matt's face, but was short-lived as the simulator rocked violently.

"What the frak is happening?" asked Matt out loud. The entire cockpit shook violently and soon was in a counter-clockwise spin. The more he tried to fight the spin, the more control he lost. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a trio of raiders bear down on him. Simulated impacts of cannon fire roared through the cockpit, and soon the screen went blank. Game over.

The canopy slowly rose, and Matt was now face to face with the colonial viper pilot that administered the simulation. "Well my young friend that was an incredible maneuver you pulled, and splashing that lead raider was incredible. It looked as if you might have survived that confrontation...had you not ran smack dab into the debris field of the bandit you blew out of the sky." Matt handed over the helmet, and unbuckled his seat harness. "Seriously kid, you were doing great, but debris from a splashed bandit needs to be avoided at all costs, the impact from the larger pieces frakked up your viper good, leaving you in a flat spin that left you an easy target."

"You ever square off against a raider?" asked Matt.

"Sadly, no." he replied. "War ended with the Cylons ten years before I got my wings, never fired a shot in anger."

"So what do you guys do all day?"

"Are you kidding me? We're constantly flying interdiction against the frakking pirates. Patrolling the shipping routes between the outer and inner colonies, patrolling the armistice line, we stay busy." The Colonial officer helped Matt out of the cockpit and the two briefly went over the video replay at the control station. "So tell me, you like being a firefighter?"

"I do, it's an exciting job, something different every day of the week." replied Matt.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but how do you stand it here? I mean Aerilon...if there was ever a colony furthest away from _anything_, it's Aerilon!" Matt knew there was a strong ring of truth to what the officer was asking him. Aerilon was indeed boring, and the last four years with the fire corps had given him as much excitement as this farming colony could offer, but eventually he knew even the fire corps would cease to offer any serious distraction from the monotony.

"Not that I'm making any kind of commitment, but what would I have to do to join the military?" asked Matt.

"It depends on what you want to do, what your level of education is." replied the officer.

"What are the requirements to fly vipers?"

"A frakload my friend. You need perfect vision, a strong grasp of mathematics, be in good physical shape, and able to grasp complicated air combat maneuvers just to start with." replied the officer. You would have to enlist and go through officer's school if you want to fly vipers. Look, let me give you my card, the _Valkyrie_ will be here for another day. If you have any questions you can reach me through wireless."

Matt accepted the card, and thanked the officer. The ride in the simulator left him with the same feeling of surged adrenaline that he got when he witnessed that mother and child getting rescued in that fire four years earlier had. Was he actually considering joining the military? It was a bold step, as it was, his friends and family was shocked when he left farming to go to Greer to join the fire corps, he could only imagine their reaction if he decided to enlist in the military, and travel to Picon to go through military academy. He walked down the length of the concourse, stopping at each station to learn as much as he could from the various professions in the military. Without doubt, being a viper pilot was the absolute best option. He had passed Commander Adama once again on his way out the door, he was impressed by the middle aged Battlestar commander who was now standing beside two armed Colonial Marines. Their eyes locked, and Adama nodded to the young firefighter who was now seriously contemplating a change in careers. He reached the parking garage and soon made his way towards his car, a sleek, black Mercury, named after the god of speed, a present to him by his father upon completion of the fire corps academy. The 400 horse powered engine roared to life, and Matt was soon racing down the highway returning to Greer.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

**Commander Adama's stateroom – Battlestar _Valkyrie_ two days later.**

Adama had poured Tigh a snifter of Caprican brandy, the two were off duty and the ship was catching up to the rest of the group that had continued on from Aerilon to the inner colonies. They were a week out of Picon fleet headquarters at present speed, and he was not looking forward to his next assignment.

"So how many farm boys do you think will come out of this frakking recruitment drive?" grunted Tigh, who could have actually cared less. He was not a fan of using a front line battlestar as a backdrop for recruiting., and even less of a fan of the "uncivilized pukes" from farming communities filling the ranks of the military.

"Maybe a couple of dozen, the gods only know." grunted Adama, downing the remnants of his brandy. "Not sure if you heard of it, but there was one promising potential. A local firefighter from Greer who did pretty well on the viper simulator. The kid had zero flying experience, and the simulator officer was fairly impressed."

"Firefighter, eh? Just what the service needs...young hotshot that runs into burning buildings that smart people are running out of." quipped Tigh, with the trace of a snarl in his voice. _Must be the brandy_, thought Adama.

"You're in a surely mood, Saul." observed Adama. He noted his old friend was getting grayer, and starting to drink more than usual. A cause for concern with Saul Tigh's history with alcohol.

"Ah, what the frak are we doing Bill? We're two old war daggits in a peacetime military." said Tigh helping himself to another refill of Adama's brandy. "The Cylons are gods know where, and the only thing even remotely justifying a bloated military is the frakking pirates. If Picon fleet headquarters would just give us the go ahead to blow these bastards out of the stars, we wouldn't keep intercepting the same old repeat offenders. Then we wouldn't have to be recruiting farmers and dirt-eaters to Colonial Fleet." At the mention of dirt-eaters, Adama gave a raised eyebrow. Tigh caught himself. "Present Tauron dirt-eater excepted." laughed Tigh, referring to the fact that Bill Adama's lineage was indeed from Tauron.

"I'm fairly certain that the council of twelve would have an issue with shoot to kill first with regard to the pirates." replied Adama.

"That's because half of those bastards are on the take, probably from the pirates themselves." said Tigh chuckling.

**Greer City, Aerilon – Residence of Matthew Lensherr.**

Matt had kicked off his shoes and sat down with a pint of beer to watch the big game. The _Caprica Buccaneers_ were facing off against the _Aerilonian Avatars. _The _Avatars_ were not expected to beat the _Buccaneers_ by any stretch of the imagination_, _but Matt was hoping they'd hold their own, maybe even score a few goals. The team was about four years old, infants compared to the _Buccaneers_ really. Matt was looking forward to seeing the over-paid pretty boys from Caprica square off against a team accustomed to brutally hard and dirty work.

The pint of ale was sharp, and he soon placed it down only to pick up the business card of the viper officer that was in charge of that flight simulator. He was surely off world by now, and any communications would have to be made my _stellar mail_, a form of text information relayed through computer networks. If he was out in space, his personal computer of limited means would take some time to reach him via satellite relays. He glanced up on his shelf that contained small metal reproductions of every viper model to the present Mk. IV. Rumor had it that the Mk. V was near completion of their testing, and once cleared set to go to full production.

He couldn't stop thinking about that viper. He thought that the fire corps. would have satiated his thirst for a change from the farms of Aerilon, but it merely delayed the inevitable. The stars are where he belonged, not stuck on Aerilon. The game was off to a good start, one of the _Avatars_ bloodied the nose of a _Buccaneer_ right off the bat, and the rest of his teammates did not take too kindly to that. The game continued and the physical contact was brutal, whatever the _Avatars_ were lacking in skill and experience they more than made up for it in offensive play. The _Buccaneers_ paid dearly for every goal they made.

As the weeks went by, firefighter Matt Lensherr continued with his daily routine at the station, with an increase in population and heavy reliance on Aerilonian exports, the city of Greer had cracked down on building code violators. Mandating pre-piped extinguishing agents in multi-family dwellings. Fire prevention was the cornerstone of the fire corps. The more the civilian population was educated on fire safety, the safer they were. With every action comes a reaction, and the benefit of the fire prevention education and the crackdown on code violators resulted in fewer fires and structural collapse within Greer. The fire corps was responding to fewer than two to three fires a week, and even fewer structural emergencies. While this slowdown was welcome, it also meant more downtime that Matt found infuriating. He was still awaiting a reply to his inquiry to the viper pilot he sent a message to, knowing the man was out on patrol he knew it might take awhile to answer. He had questions, and before he enlisted, or took the word of a recruiter who would say anything to get someone to sign he decided to ask someone actually doing the job he was interested in. On this morning, while checking his online messages, fate had finally replied.

_MESSAGE REPLY FROM LIEUTENANT MICAH FOX – GAMMA SQUADRON BATTLESTAR VALKYRIE. MESSAGE READS:_

_MR. LENSHERR, _

_I WAS SURPRISED TO GET YOUR MESSAGE REGARDING ENLISTING IN COLONIAL FLEET AND BECOMING A VIPER PILOT. PROVIDING YOU PASS ALL BACKGROUND CHECKS, MEDICAL EVALUATION AND APTITUDE TESTS IN REGARD TO FLIGHT SCHOOL, I SEE NO REASONS WHY YOUR INTENTION TO BECOME A PILOT WOULD GO UNFULFILLED. YOU MUST VISIT YOUR LOCAL RECRUITER AND OFFICIALLY ENLIST, HOWEVER...DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING UNLESS A FLIGHT SLOT CAN BE GUARANTEED TO YOU, UNLESS YOU HAVE A SECONDARY M.V.S. (MILITARY VOCATIONAL SPECIALTY) THAT YOU ARE INTERESTED IN. _

Matt's pulse quickened as he read through the message, he had asked roughly a dozen questions and received detailed answers to all of them. An odd sensation of hope filled him as he read each line. Could this be it? He thought. His chance to fully escape Aerilon and see all of the Colonies, to explore their star system first hand, instead of through stories and text books found in space port bars and libraries. He let the final paragraph sink in.

_BEWARE THESE FRAKKING RECRUITERS, ESPECIALLY ON BACKWATER WORLDS SUCH AS AERILON (NO OFFENSE), THEY WILL SAY AND DO ANYTHING TO GET YOU TO SIGN UP. MAKE YOUR ENLISTMENT CONTINGENT ON A GUARANTEED SLOT IN VIPER SCHOOL, OR YOUR SECOND CHOICE OF M.V.S. OR NO DEAL. I HOPE THIS ADVICE HAS BEEN OF USE, AND FEEL FREE TO CONTACT ME AND KEEP ME ADVISED OF YOUR PROGRESS._

_MICAH FOX_

_BATTLESTAR VALKYRIE_

_BSG 41_

**Lensherr family farm - two weeks Later**

"Colonial Fleet?" repeated his mother. "You just up and enlisted in the Colonial Fleet, just like that?" The matriarch of the Lensherr family was a strong woman, as were most women on Aerilon who lived the rough life as a farmer. Magda Lensherr was not one to express her opinions openly. She was extremely bright, better educated than most Aerilonian women. Her family owned the largest construction company on Aerilon, they had built the spaceport in Greer and other cities across Aerilon. She attended the best schools on the planet, and her parents were slightly disappointed when she chose to marry a mere farmer. Over time, her father had come to admire and respect the young Avery Lensherr, and was pleased when he provided them their first grandchildren. She rarely spoke unless she had something of interest to say, and it was almost always measured and well thought out before said.

"Just like that." replied Matt as he took a long pull from the pint of ale before him. His parents looked dumbstruck, and while he knew they weren't pleased with his decision years earlier to leave the farm for Greer and the fire corps, at least he was still on Aerilon. "Look, my future is out there somewhere," began Matt gesturing to the skies hidden beyond the cathedral ceilings of the house. "As long as I stay here, I will never reach my full potential. Being a member of the fire corps was an amazing thing, it allowed me to experience different people, different customs, life and death. But I need more, I _know_ there is something special for me out there."

"When will you leave?" asked his father quietly.

"I leave for basic training on Picon at the end of the month. The fire corps degree I earned from university, as well as various other courses and experiences will allow me to enter O.A.S." This was the acronym for Officer Aspirant School, part of the military whose sole objective was to educate, train, and evaluate officer aspirants to ensure they possess the moral, intellectual and physical qualities for commissioning in the Colonial Fleet. "Once I am an officer, I will be sent to flight academy to learn how to fly vipers, from there I'll be assigned to a land base or Battlestar Group, gods be willing." said Matt.

"And if the gods don't will it?" asked Magda.

"I have it _in writing_ that I have the option to separate honorably, or move on to my second choice of profession which would still be aboard a Battlestar or Warstar." replied Matt, feeling as if he had all of his bases covered.

There was a long period of silence as Avery stared out at his son across the table. He soon spoke. "Matthew, much like your decision to enter the fire corps, your mother and I will support your decision. You're a grown man, answerable to only yourself. While we would like nothing more than to keep you close on Aerilon, we know that you feel much like the oxen in the field, chafing under the yoke strapped upon it." His thick, guttural voice filling the room not with anger and disappointment, but with understanding and love. "Go with or without the god's blessings Matthew, only you know what will make you whole." The dinner lasted well into the night, with casks of strong Aerilonian ale being consumed by all present. A few close neighbors and old friends had been invited to the Lensherr home unknown to Matt, but he was happy when they all trickled in throughout the night. Stories and laughter filled the old farm house, and all would suffer severe hangovers when the sun came up, which by now, was only a few short hours away.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

**Picon Fleet Headquarters – Flight Academy Day One**

Senior Flight Instructor Colonel Roal Jon Horlach's footsteps clacked heavily on the highly polished tile floor of the main hall of the flight academy building, the academy was situated at the far end of Picon Fleet Head quarter's sprawling base. Painted on the floor was a two inch red line, it bordered the entire room, and standing right at the line was thirty recruits fresh out of Officer Aspirant School. After three months of basic military training, those qualified recruits then moved on to OAS to learn how to become officers. Now began the final phase of their training, and the most intense. Viper training school. Each recruit stood at the position of attention in their green utilities, their rank insignia pinned to their collars. Boots shined to a high gloss, hair cropped close to the scalp. The lone female in the group, Lieutenant Junior Grade Kara Fan wore her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her shoulders pulled back as she stood ramrod straight, eyes straight ahead.

Horlach stood close to six feet tall, muscular for his age with gray hair cropped close to his head. His equally gray eyes peered out at the new recruits before him. He had been assigned to various Battlestars in his career, and was a well respected viper pilot whose callsign was "Timezone." He maintained a scowl throughout the morning, from the moment the recruits stepped off the shuttle until the moment he ran them full force carrying all of their gear across the courtyard to their present position. His carefully measured steps took him clear across the floor, stopping just before the lone female. Lt. jg. Fan felt as if he would burn a hole straight through her forehead. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, looking directly at the cleft in his chin, remaining careful not to make eye contact.

"By far, this is the sorriest group of daggit frakkers that has come out of OAS in a long time!" began Horlach, his voice sounding like it was escaping from a tomb. "Is the top brass at fleet headquarters actually trying to convince me that you thirty are the best they have to offer my flight academy?" asked Horlach incredulously, scanning the length of the recruits before him. Looking back towards Kara Fan he spoke directly to her. "And why are _you_ here?" demanded Horlach. Kara looked up confused.

"Sir?"

"Am I not speaking clearly, nugget?" replied Horlach, now standing inches from her face. "I asked you a simple frakking question nugget, and you look at me with some brain-damaged look on your face? Get on down, nugget...grab yourself some real estate!" ordered Horlach. The young woman immediately dropped to the ground in the push up position and waited. "Lieutenant Fan, start pushing until I get tired."

Kara's arms were muscular, yet not overly so. She started to belt out the push ups in a smooth cadence. She had reached one hundred before Horlach spoke again.

"Lt. Fan, let's try this again...why are you here in my viper school?"

"To be a viper pilot sir!" she replied loudly, never once breaking stride.

"A viper pilot? That's interesting, most females have opted for Raptors, yet here you are wanting to learn how to fly one of my vipers."

"I'm not like most women, sir!" _You_ s_tupid frakker_, thought Kara as soon as the words flew out of her mouth. _Why in the name of the Lords of Kobol did I say that?_

Horlach crouched down, impressed with the fact that the young woman before him was still belting out the push ups, yet starting to slow, a small puddle of sweat forming beneath her on the floor. "What number are you on, nugget?"

"I wasn't counting sir, just pushing until you get tired...as instructed." grunted Kara.

"So, you _can_ follow directions, excellent. Alright, you want to become a viper pilot, now tell me how you came to this decision."

"I've flown...civilian jets since sixteen." grunted Kara, she was clearly growing fatigued. She had been down pushing for a little over two minutes now. "...always knew I was meant...meant to fly."

"_Meant to fly?" _repeated Horlach loudly. "What the frak does that mean, meant to fly...like it's some kind of frakking _destiny_?" Kara decided to keep her response brief and on point.

"Yes sir!"

Horlach grunted, and it looked as if he cracked an ever-so-slight smile. "Alright lieutenant, congratulations...you're the first amongst this sorry lot to earn their callsign, something that will stick with you throughout your career. From this point on you go by the callsign _Destiny_...recover and get back to toeing the line." Kara recovered and fell back in line trying to control her breathing. All she could think of was that in less than five minutes in viper school and she already earned herself a stupid frakking nickname.

Horlach continued down the line, eyeballing each recruit. Stopping at Matt Lensherr he took notice of the name embroidered above the left pocket. He held out his hand and one of the assistant instructors handed him a clipboard. Flipping through the pages he stopped, glanced back at the name tag, and then back to the clipboard. "So you're Lensherr, eh boy?" growled Horlach. "Well, according to your record you graduated number two in your class at basic training, and number one in OAS. Your superior officers both agree that you were an outstanding nugget, with a bright future ahead of you." The senior flight instructor handed back the clipboard and walked in a slow circle around Matt, stopping on his right side. "That may mean felgercarb to the chair-bound paper-pushers who would love to have you serving in a command position aboard a slow-crawling warship, but means zero in a cockpit of a viper son, _got it?!_"

"Sir, _yes sir_!" Matt sounded off loudly.

"What did you do before joining Colonial Fleet, Lensherr?"

"Fire Corps sir, Greer City, Aerilon."

"Fire Corps? From what I hear, that profession is a haven for daggit frakkers and men who sit when they piss! Which camp did you fall in, boy?" demanded Horlach.

"Neither sir!" replied Lensherr forcefully!

"You calling me a liar, boy?"

"Negative sir, just that I never frakked a daggit, nor sat when I pissed...never have, never will." Horlach eyeballed the young lieutenant before him. There was something he liked about this kid from Aerilon. His record was written by officers he knew well, men whose judgment and opinion he knew were sound. However, excelling in basic training and officer's school was easy, learning to fly a star fighter was an entirely different animal.

"Your record indicates one accomplishment after another, your instructors make it sound like you descended from Mount Olympus itself like a god amongst mortals. Which God are you, boy? You ran in and out of fires for what some people would consider a living. You a fire god, boy?" Horlach walked out to the center of the room and addressed the recruits loudly. "Stiffen your backs you daggit-frakking scumbags, you're in the presence of _Hephaestus_ himself!" he shouted. He strolled back to Matt and positioned himself close so only Matt could hear. "There are no favorites here little fire god, time to step off Olympus and pull your weight. If you excel here in my academy like you did in OAS then you'll make a fine viper jock. If not...then you can go serve aboard one of those slow moving garbage scows that are hardly worthy of housing my beloved vipers, _got it?_"

"Yes sir!"

"_Then get the frak out of my sight, all of you! _ Locate your assigned bunks, stow your gear and be in formation outside building twenty two in thirty minutes! Dismissed! yelled Horlach. Thirty recruits bolted from the room and made off at a full run for their assigned barracks.

Day one of viper training academy was coming to a close, after orientation and a tour of the facility done at a full run, the thirty recruits of class Epsilon 126 finally sat down to dinner consisting of beef looked to have been boiled, some unidentifiable vegetables that actually tasted edible and potatoes. Lensherr's legs felt like rubber, he hadn't ran this hard since basic training. The six months of OAS was mainly academic, with some running, but nothing like they had done today. He was unsure if this would be a daily routine, or just something Colonel Horlach threw in to bust their asses. Matt sat down at an empty table with a clear view of the chow hall. Within moments he was joined by one of his classmates.

"May I join you...Hephaestus?" asked Kara smiling.

"Oh please do..._Destiny!_" laughed Matt. "Well it's only the first day and we both got saddled with callsigns that'll be ours for years to come. No sense in bitching about em, otherwise they'll probably just replace it with something worse. It figures, I get named after an ugly and lame fire god, what's better than that?" said Matt sarcastically.

"I think you got the better end of the deal, Matt." confided Kara as she started to chew her food. "My gods...did they frakking boil the meat? It isn't supposed to be gray, right?"

"Yeah, it's pretty bad, but I'm not so sure that they just aren't frakking with us. Word on the street is that chow in viper school is supposed to be pretty good." said Matt.

"Yeah? Well either someone forgot to tell the chef, or they're frakking with us." said Kara. "Look Matt, I'll cut through the felgercarb," began Kara putting down her fork. "You came out of OAS number one, something that wasn't unexpected, but now we're entering my element, and I have every intention coming out number one and getting that choice _first pick_ of assignments."

"I sit here duly informed Lt. Fan. However, please don't be offended if I attempt to claim the top slot for myself."

"Are we talking about a side wager here Lieutenant?" asked Kara with a sly grin.

"Perhaps, let's take a night to sleep on it and present our wagers tomorrow." replied Matt.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.

Senior Flight Instructor Colonel Horlach stood before a video screen displaying a diagram of a Mk. IV viper demonstrating turn rate and radius. He held a laser pointer, and was highlighting critical areas of interest for his students. "Two characteristics of a turning aircraft that a pilot must understand are t_urn radius _and_ turn rate_. Turn radius is simply a measure of how tightly your viper is turning during atmospheric flight. If you were looking down on the aircraft as it turned, turn radius would be the distance from the center of the turn circle to the aircraft, measured in feet." He walked down the center aisle, watching as his students scribbled furiously in their notebooks. "It is not important to understand how to compute turn radius, but it is important to realize that velocity is squared in the equation and that the equation also includes aircraft Gs. The more Gs you pull, the tighter the turn." The class on tactics was Matt's favorite, he was soaking it all up and much to his surprise, understanding without major difficulty.

"You will never master Basic Viper Maneuvers, or BVM, unless you can control your airspeed. A good overall combat airspeed is what, Hephaestus?"

"400 to 450 sir!" replied Matt smartly. "If you fly faster when you are trying to turn, your viper will have a very large turn radius and slow rate turn."

"And if your speed is less than 400...Destiny?" Not to be outdone by the one fellow student she considered a threat to her desire for graduating top of the class, Kara responded just as smart as Matt.

"If flying slower than 400 knots, your turn radius will be small but your turn rate will go down because you can't achieve high Gs at a slow speed..._sir!_"

"Very good, nuggets. However...I would like a little more participation from the class when it comes to answering my questions, Hephaestus and Destiny shouldn't be the only hands shooting up whenever I ask a frakking question. Perhaps a nice leisurely stroll around the perimeter would clear your heads." said Horlach gently. "_Off your asses and on your feet maggots, six laps around the perimeter at double-time!_" yelled Horlach at the top of his lungs. He suppressed a smile as he viewed asses and elbows exiting the room at high speed.

He sat down at his desk and pulled out a fumarello, lighting it. He let the fine, sweet taste of the smoke roll around in his mouth, the fumarello grown and hand-rolled on Aerilon. Aside from good beef and fumarello leafs, the only other decent thing to come off Aerilon was Hephaestus, thought Horlach. He liked the young man, saw huge potential in him. He reminded him of his own son Jon, a newly minted police officer on Libran. Both were about the same age, and both had that serious trait. In Hephaestus, that seriousness could run the risk of being a detriment in battle, there were times that by-the-book might not be an option. Time would tell, this class had a ways to go before they were ready to sit in an actual cockpit. They had at least another two months worth of classroom, then they would move over to the simulator wing. Destiny was his other top student, she was the only nugget with actual flight experience. A viper was far different than a civilian jet, but she had the basics down and he could see that she was going to give Lensherr a huge run for his cubits in claiming the top slot at graduation.

The days pass, as the junior officers of class Epsilon 126 continue with their classes on Basic Viper Maneuvers, Tactics background, DRADIS avoidance, Weapons envelope and Formations. The days are growing shorter as fall fast approaches on Picon. Every morning starts off with a five kilometer run and calisthenics, followed by breakfast and dormitory inspection. Today there was a crisp breeze as the leaves fell to the ground. Destiny had pulled up beside Matt on the final kilometer of the run.

"You're looking tired, Matt. You gonna make it?" asked Destiny playfully. She looked as if she barely broke a sweat which only infuriated Matt. He increased his strides, pulling away from her.

"Do be a dear and try to keep up, Kara." yelled Matt over his shoulder. Kara picked up speed and the race was on. The next nearest classmate was over one hundred meters behind them doing his best to catch up. After another few hundred yards, Kara was now running side by side with Matt. "You don't...give up, do you?" huffed Matt.

"Not a frakking chance," shot back Kara. "my old man dragged my family from one military base to the other...I used to...run in the mornings with him as a teenager, this is a jog."

"Your father was in Colonial Fleet?

"He was an officer, commander of his own air group to be exact...Major Robert Fan." The parking lot was the finish line,and it had just come within sight. Both runners picked up speed, their breathing was loud as they sucked on precious air. "My mother... was a stay-at-home mom, native of Libris, but constant travel kept her from there for a long time."

Colonel Horlach stood at the finish line with a chronometer in his hands, impressed with the time the top two students in his class was doing the run in. "The person that comes in number two scrubs the latrines tonight after chow!" yelled Horlach in his gravely voice. He could see Matt and Kara break out in a full sprint for the finish line, it was going to be close.

With yards to go, Kara turned to Matt and smiled. "See ya, sucker!" With that, she pulled ahead and crossed the line painted on the pavement. Matt came to a stop in defeat, sucking in air deeply. Colonel Horlach stepped over to him.

"Make sure you get a decent amount to eat at chow tonight, Hephaestus...you'll be busy well into the night and will need the energy!" said Horlach as the next runner came across the line. "Roadkill...does Virgon specialize in third place finishers? I like them even less than second place finishers, you'll be joining Hephaestus this evening, and when the rest of the ladies cross the line you can inform them that they have garbage duty. I want every discarded fumarello, wrapper, and materials not made by the gods picked up and disposed of." With a wave of dismissal, Horlach walked back to his office, class would be starting in one hour, and he wanted to get in a good fumarello beforehand.

Lieutenant Jg. Dave "Roadkill" Wright had just finished his sixth stall, and he was nauseated. "Are you frakking kidding me, Heph...females are the fairer sex? The female latrines are worse than _anything_ I've ever encountered in a male latrine." lamented Wright speaking through a surgical mask he hoped would filter the smell of the latrine and cleaning supplies.

"So goes the rumor Dave." replied Matt as he stared up at the graffiti carved into the top of the bathroom stall's door _STARBUCK WAS HERE...CLASS OF EPSILON-123. "_Take 'Starbuck' for example, I'm looking at her handiwork here on the inside of this stall. She graduated viper academy three classes ago. She _had_ to know that someone would see her callsign carved into the metal wall and she _still_ did it! I wonder how many push-ups she did for that one?"

"Kara Thrace is a legend at the academy. She left a trail of broken teeth and set records for most time in the brink for a cadet." replied Roadkill.

"Sounds more like a loose cannon to me, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall of Horlach's office when he had her standing tall." laughed Matt.

"Starbuck was indeed a loose cannon, but went on to graduate top of her class...one of the best frakking viper jocks this academy ever produced. Will they say the same about you farm boy?" came the voice of Horlach himself leaning up against the open door of the latrine, fumarello firmly clenched between his teeth. Both men immediately came to attention as Horlach waved them off.

"Oh stand at frakking ease, I think I can afford to dispense with the academy bullshit after hours, especially if you're cleaning the head." goused Horlach as he propped himself up on the nearby counter. "Kara Thrace was indeed sanctioned for that carved signature, I pushed her well-toned ass to the point of muscle failure with push-ups and running, and just when she was about to break I moved her over the hanger to have her assist the crew chiefs in any way they saw fit in her off duty time. She learned not only how to fly a viper, but how to properly care for one. And she never complained about it...not even once. So gentlemen, please don't bitch about cleaning a few latrines, it'll only piss me off."

Horlach jumped off and walked down the length of the latrine, inspecting its cleanliness. He had already checked the latrines on the 2nd and 3rd floor before stopping in. "Alright gentlemen, I think you've had enough. Go grab some rack time, I don't need you falling asleep in tomorrow's session."

Roadkill had stripped off his gloves and mask, disposing them in the trash. He nodded to the Colonel and was soon out the door heading for his bed. Matt pushed the cleaning cart towards the janitor's closet, securing it within for the night. "Good night sir."

"Hephaestus, a moment." said Horlach. Matt had stood at parade rest as Horlach walked over to him. "Listen kid, I want you to know I'm impressed with your academics, you're doing well, and well on your way to graduating top of this class. All the running and push-up felgercarb aside, I think you're going to go just as far as Starbuck, hopefully with far less time in hack that she racked up. Destiny is giving you a run for your money on all levels, she's much like Starbuck, but with better impulse control. That being said, she's your main competitor. Choice of assignment is on the line here, so if I were you I wouldn't let up for a moment. There's _nothing_ in the twelve worlds better than being a viper pilot, boy. Don't ever forget that! The only reason I'm pushing you and Destiny, and to a degree your buddy Roadkill is because I see potential in each of you. Don't frak this up."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

This morning's class had started much like any other, thirty nuggets fresh from the chow hall taking their assigned seats, wishing to the gods they hadn't eaten as much as they did. For some, food coma was right around the corner, and may the gods protect those caught by Flight Instructor Horlach to be nodding off during class.

"Good morning nuggets!" growled Horlach entering the room, his trademark mug of coffee firmly in hand. The dented pewter stein held a gut-wrenching brew of coffee native to Libris.

"_Good morning sir!" _responded thirty voices in unison.

"Today we will be going over Viper head-on BVM." began Horlach taking a long pull of his coffee. "This Basic Viper Maneuver is flown after passing the bandit head-on. At this point, you could keep going away from the bandit or you could reverse course and 'mix it up' with him. Head-on BVM is simple to execute but difficult to understand. These steps will help you take a head-on situation and convert it into an offensive one." A list of half a dozen bullet points flashed across the screen, and the nuggets quickly jotted them down in their notes.

"Lieutenant Costanza, after starting a hard turn into the bandit, you keep the turn coming until you get the bandit in your targeting scope again. At this time, analyze the aspect angle. If it is high /above 90 degrees, you are still in a head-on fight. Go back to step one. If the aspect angle is medium or low, you are winning the manly contest of head-on BVM. Just keep pulling hard in the direction of the bandit and you will soon be on its six o'clock position. True or False?" Brendan "Hot Dog Costanza's eyes snapped open at the sound of Horlach's voice. He answered quickly.

"Sir, that would be true." A quiet audible groan could be heard throughout the room as Costanza answered the question incorrectly. He had been nodding off, a late night card game was about to ruin his day. Horlach walked over and towered over his desk.

"I'm afraid that is _incorrect_, Hot Dog! The frakking correct answer is right in front of you on that board, nugget...what in the name of the gods is your problem son? You had best unfrak yourself before you end up taking the next transport out of here. _Pay attention!_" snapped Horlach. "Roadkill, what is the correct answer?"

"Sir, the correct answer is false. If it is high /above 120 degrees, you are still in a head-on fight. ..not 90 degrees." replied Roadkill.

"Correct Roadkill." replied Horlach. People I cannot stress enough how important the phase we're now entering is. By week's end you'll all be out of the simulators and into actual vipers. You frak up out there you're going to get killed, or worse...you may damage or destroy my vipers." said Horlach. The class continued and those that would be viper pilots devoured the lessons and information provided them. When the day's classes were completed, Matt had stepped outdoors and walked along the parade grounds. There was a chill in the air, and leaves were now falling from the trees as Matt walked along deep in thought. He couldn't believe how much his life had changed in such a short time. Never thinking he'd leave the farm, much less Aerilon itself, he was still in awe that he was present at the seat of military power itself, the colony of Picon taking part in viper training. He was a newly minted junior officer, and now was the culmination of his effort. Flying vipers for Colonial Fleet. Picon fleet headquarters was a sprawling complex that spanned many miles in all directions. Battlestar row contained at least a dozen berths for the massive powerhouses of the fleet; the battlestar, another twenty berths for Warstars and other support ships. At least three viper wings were based at Picon Fleet Headquarters (PFH), as well as a a Division of Colonial Marines, around 20,000 men and women serving in the elite ground forces of the colonial military.

"Cubit for your thoughts, Heph!" interrupted Dave "Roadkill" Wright.

Matt shook himself from his thoughts replying, "A cubit is probably too much for my thoughts, just taking in the night air and winding down."

"What is up with Hotdog, eh? Dumb frakker is going to wash out if he keeps it up. He barely passed the last two written tests, and then gets busted by Timezone for nodding off in class." said Dave, referring to Lt. Jg Brendan Costanza.

"I don't know, I mean he has to know he's on this ice with Horlach. His level of self-confidence doesn't seem to match his abilities." replied Matt. The two continued to talk and soon returned to their dorms to get a good night sleep.

**Picon Air strip #53**

Six light blue, double seated vipers were parked on the tarmac. The color clearly identified them as training vipers, and they were specifically made with a second seat positioned directly behind the pilot for the instructor. The first six pilots scheduled to fly were going over their pre-flight check list, making sure everything was perfect prior to firing up the three Voram engines. The Thraxon kinetic energy weapons, or KEWS were not loaded with rounds for this segment of actual flight, this would be strictly basic flying maneuvers. The flight leathers worn by the nuggets were the actual style leathers worn by certified pilots with the exception that they did not have the coveted viper wings or squadron insignia attached to them. To Matt Lensherr, they fit like a second skin.

He began his walk-around of the starfighter, during the exterior part of the preflight inspection, the pilot was to look for anything that appeared to be mechanically unsound. Items such as loose or missing rivets or fasteners, wrinkled surfaces, or anything that just does not look right should be suspect. Senior flight instructor Horlach's motto was _If in doubt, do not fly! _He peered inside the air intakes that were critical for atmospheric flight, to ensure that they were free of foreign objects, and that the fan blades are all in good shape and tight fitting. He continued on to checking the leading edge of the wings, the pressure in the tires of the landing gear, and took a sample of the fuel to check for impurities. Climbing up into the cockpit he took his place in the front seat, and began a systems check that lasted twenty minutes. Upon completion he signaled his crew chief to inform him that he was all set. Colonel Horlach himself was riding shotgun with Matt, a degree of anxiety he could have well done without. Today they would be practicing basic flying maneuvers and basic formations.

"Get us airborne, nugget!" ordered Timezone from the rear seat. The second seat used by the instructors to monitor the student pilot's progress had the ability to remove control from the pilot in the event they became incapacitated or unable to control the aircraft. The instructor could also eject both occupants in the event of an emergency. Matt throttled up the viper and released the brake causing the aircraft to hurtle down the flight line. Pulling back on the controls, Matt brought training viper 6214E into the blue skies of Picon. The remaining five training vipers were soon aloft as well, each taking a different heading to allow the pilot to get a feel for the aircraft without flying into each other.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10.

Matt felt alive with the controls firmly in hand, the viper handled smoothly. Colonel Horlach made several observations on Matt's technique. Then, Matt heard it - the click of the mic button from the back seat. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Horlach spoke: "Picon Center, Timezone, can you give us a ground speed check?" There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. "Timezone, Picon Center, I show you at six hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground."

"Roger that Picon center, thank you." replied Horlach. "You're moving at a fairly quick clip, Hephaestus, let's see you execute a drop and roll..._now!" _Without hesitation the viper dropped back, and down going into a roll. It was executed flawlessly. "Very good. With a few exceptions, you're the only one out of this lot that I'd put my life in their hands doing a drop and roll at over six hundred."

"Thank you, sir." replied Matt trying not to sound cocky. Senior flight instructor and Colonel, Raol "Timezone" Horlach was long a legend in the viper community, and it was a pleasure and nerve-wracking altogether to have him riding shotgun in his training viper. The skies of Picon were clear that morning, and Hephaestus was flying at 16,000 feet above the surface. At thirty two feet in length, and a wingspan of eighteen feet, it was a little larger than a standard Mk. IV viper. This was due to the presence of a rear seat for training purposes only, no front line viper held more than one pilot. The latest viper class, the Mk. V viper was slowly integrating into service. It would be awhile before Matt figured he'd be sitting in one of those. Aside from an increase in top speed by at least twenty knots, the Mk. V had other improvements. Namely it's new computerized weapons system. Using the power of the on-board computers, coupled with the extensive maintenance diagnostics built into the Mk. V by the manufacturers on Caprica, the workload had been significantly reduced. The idea was to relieve pilots of the bulk of system manipulations associated with flying and allow them to do what a pilot does best - be a tactician and splash bandits.

The Paramount Multi-Function Display (PMFD) is a 7"x7" color display that is located in the middle of the instrument panel, under the Integrated Command Panel, or ICP. It is the viper pilot's primary display for navigation, route of flight, situation assessment (SA) or a "mark one eyeball view" of the entire environment around (above, below, both sides, front and back) the viper. Matt continually checked his instrument panel for signs of anything wrong. The DRADIS screen revealed two vipers approaching his six, the green asterisk identified friendly aircraft, while red triangles indicated enemy aircraft. The two vipers started to fly formation with Matt's viper. _Hotdog_ was positioned off his port wing, with _Slowpoke _off the starboard wing. What came next happened with blinding speed, there was no warning. Lt. jg. Brendan "Hotdog" Costanza's viper plowed straight into a flock of Tellans, very large waterfowl with razor sharp beaks. Fifty to fifty four inches in length, these large birds are capable of inflicting serious damage to any aircraft unlucky enough to meet up with them. The first impact struck the canopy with such force that it cracked, leaving blood and guts smeared across the canopy. The second impact was on the starboard air intake. With atmospheric flight, the protective coverings over the air intake usually in place while flying through the vacuum of space were retracted, and the turbines were in motion. The engine blew apart, and the rookie pilot panicked, even though he had been trained how to deal with bird strikes during atmospheric flight.

"_Frak, frak, frak...I'm hit, something just exploded over my cockpit's canopy...starboard engine malfunction...uhh....krypter, krypter, krypter...I'm hit!"_ cried Hotdog over the comline. In the background you could hear the calm voice of Hotdog's instructor riding shotgun issuing directives that were being ignored in what was obviously a case of a panicked nugget pilot. _"I can't see...I can't see!"_

"_Use your instruments, forget about visual!" _shouted Horlach into the cockpit. He knew his fellow instructor was giving those exact same directions less than thirty feet away. Hotdog's heart was racing, he couldn't see through his canopy, and all he could think of was getting out of there, he looked down at the ejection handle, and as if the instructor behind him was reading his mind he shouted out.

"_Don't even think about that ejection handle nugget!" _Costanza felt as if his heart was in his throat, and sweat dripped down into his eyes, he instinctively reached up to wipe the sweat away, but with his helmet on it was impossible. That momentary release of the control stick, coupled with the damaged engine caused the viper to pull to the right, towards Hephaestus and Timezone. Proximity warnings blared loudly in both cockpits as Hotdog clumsily retrieved the controls. The jerking of the stick caused the top part of the starboard wing to sweep up, making contact with the bottom side of Hephaestus' port wing. Matt acted fast in order not to swerve into Slowpoke who was flying in close formation. He executed a tight drop and roll, putting distance between him and Hotdog. When they recovered they were now below and to the rear of both vipers. Slowpoke peeled off away from Hotdog's viper that was continuing on an erratic track.

"Picon Center, Timezone...I am declaring an emergency for Hotdog, all training vipers are to clear the airspace and land immediately!" ordered Horlach. "Frak it all, I've had it with this kid. Good evasive maneuvers Hephaestus, you kept your cool and kept control of your aircraft. Back off and stay on Hotdog's five o'clock high until he lands."

"Yes sir!" replied Matt. Hotdog finally recovered his aircraft after repeated commands from his training instructor, he felt ill. He knew he had fraked up again, this time he almost caused another pilot to lose control due to bumping wings. After descending on instrumentation, he brought his damaged viper down hard, twisting the nose landing gear into a grotesque angle. That was the final nail in his burial box.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11.

"Can you hear anything?" The voice was relentless, having repeated that same question three times, Destiny was finally starting to get on Matt's nerves. Gritting his teeth he tried one last time to get a decent handhold on the slight bit of ledge beneath the window.

"Dave you need to keep still, stop fraking shaking!" said Matt as he struggled to get a handhold. He stood upon fellow student Dave "Roadkill" Wright's narrow shoulders. The trio were concealed behind thick foliage surrounding the outside wall of conference room eleven. "Damn it all, _stay still,_ I can't get a grip!" Destiny helped to brace Roadkill and Matt was finally able to get a firm grip. He pulled himself up and was able to hook his arm around a corner drain pipe. Less than two inches of the sole of his boots grabbed purchase on the ledge, one wrong slip and he was falling at least twelve feet and would most likely take the flimsy drain pipe with him. Once secured, he inched his way towards the corner of the grimy window to peer in. Within it was a long table occupied by six flight instructors, Colonel Horlach sat at the center of the table. In the center of the room stood Hotdog at the position of attention. Matt strained to hear what they were saying.

"Lieutenant Junior grade Branden Costanza, you stand before this board to face our judgment." began Horlach solemnly. "You've racked up an unimpressive list of accomplishments, mister; repeated failure to stay awake during instructional periods, repeated violation of the gambling prohibition for students, and an inability to maintain the minimum grade point average. If these infractions weren't enough to place you on the line of serious wash-out jeopardy, then this latest incident was enough to push you over that line under full turbos. You lost control of your aircraft after that bird strike, you panicked...and not only placed yourself and your back-seater in danger, but struck another viper, namely the one I was riding in, putting us in danger as well. After repeat instructions from Major Royce, you finally recovered and brought your aircraft down to the deck, only to destroy the landing gear on a completely unsat landing." The inquisition lasted another ten minutes, with each instructor taking their pound of flesh. Hotdog looked miserable, Matt had truly felt bad for him, but knew Horlach was right. Hotdog had frakked up from almost his first day on Picon.

"Lieutenant Costanza, it is the judgment of this board that you be discharged from this flight school effective immediately. You may reapply no sooner than two years time, I would suggest that you use that time to decide what kind of an officer you intend to be in Colonial Fleet. You've squandered an incredible opportunity here, lieutenant. Too much ambrosia, too many late nights, and not nearly enough dedication to academics...it is clear that at this time, you are not ready for flying vipers." Horlach paused a moment and stared directly at Costanza. "Personally, I don't know if you ever will be. May the gods have mercy on your soul." With those words he dropped the gavel to the tabletop, ending the proceeding, and Hotdog's quest to become a viper pilot.

"What's happening?" pressed Destiny.

"Hotdogs gone...he washed out!" Much to Roadkill's relief, Matt dropped to the ground. The three friends walked back to their quarters in silence. Classes had been rescheduled until after Hotdog's inquest, and they had at least another two hours before class resumed. After noon chow, the announcement was made to fall into formation in the courtyard. Twenty nine nuggets formed up as senior flight instructor Horlach and his assistants stood quietly. They stood at the position of attention for at least twenty minutes. It was then that the door to the dorms opened and out stepped Hotdog carrying his duffel and civilian suitcase. He never once looked up, nor at his former classmates as he walked across the courtyard, stopping at a medium-sized granite wall with thirty brass pegs protruding at least twelve inches from the top. He reached down and opened the top of his military issued duffel, pulling out his helmet. He seemed to cradle it in his hands for a moment until he then placed it upon the peg bearing the number 27 beneath it. The dreaded wall of shame; this was where academy washouts made their final journey, obligated to "hang up" their helmet before departing the grounds. He would not be the last to visit the wall.

It had been weeks since _Hotdog_ visited the wall of shame, since then, two other would-be viper pilots hung their helmets; _Giggles_ and _Two-times, _both natives of _Caprica. _It was discovered that Lt. Jg. Pete "Giggles" Hart had hidden a vision problem which would have disqualified him from flying vipers. He got as far as he did by using black market contact lenses that fooled medical scanners during the physical examination process of basic training. The other _Caprican_, Lt. Jg. Ricardo "Two-Times" Lopez washed out after six bad landings, two of which required extensive repairs, and a failed mid-term exam. Matt, Kara and Dave were sitting in the lounge watching the _Caprican Buccaneers_ completely dominate the _Libran Lancers_ in Pyramid on the television. The mood was somber.

"Two more down, I wonder who's going to be next?" asked Dave taking a long pull of his non-alcoholic drink. Once the flying stage of viper school started, all nuggets were prohibited from drinking alcohol until weekend shore leave, and then they had to have a minimum of fourteen hours of sobriety before flying.

"Well I know who it won't be!" replied Kara winking. "I busted my ass to get this far, there is no frakking way I'm gonna wash out."

"Gods willing." retorted Roadkill.

"The gods have nothing to do with it, never have...never will!" Snapped Matt. Roadkill and Destiny made a show of moving their seats far from Matt for his blasphemy.

"I am _not _getting my ass fried from a bolt from the blue because of you, Hephaestus!" laughed Destiny. "I take it you don't believe in the gods?"

"Mystical felgercarb made up by ancients drunk on ambrosia as they fled Kobol." replied Matt trying to pay attention to the game. "I'm starting to believe that even Kobol is a lie." Roadkill placed his hands over his ears and ran around the room. The trio broke out in much needed laughter.

The next day would be another grueling day in the cockpit, the temperature was cold, and winter was fast approaching on _Picon_. Matt had completed his pre-flight checks and had the Voram engines warmed up. Colonel Horlach was just about ready to order him to take off when they noticed a Colonial Marine vehicle racing onto the runway, its blue flashers visible. "What the frak is this?" grumbled Horlach. The vehicle came to a stop in front of their viper, and a marine captain leaped out, walking over to the viper. Colonel Horlach popped the canopy and looked directly at the young marine who snapped out a crisp salute as he approached. "What can I do for you, captain?"

"Colonel, I need a moment of your time, could you step out of the viper, there has been a...situation." replied the marine grimly. Raol Horlach unsnapped his harness and climbed down onto the tarmac. The marine guided him over towards the nose of the viper, away from the whine of the three Voram engines sitting at idle. "Colonel, this is an official notification from Fleet headquarters, your son, Officer Jon Horlach of the Libran Police Force was involved in a shooting. Reports indicate that he had pulled over a vehicle on a routine traffic stop when the driver shot him twice in the chest as he approached the vehicle. He's in critical condition at the intensive care unit at Libran Medical." Matt could see Horlach's face turn ashen before quickly regaining his composure. He saluted the marine captain and then turned toward Matt, gesturing to kill the engines. Matt quickly complied and shut down the three Voram engines.

"Lensherr, I have a personal matter that requires my immediate attention, your flight will have to be rescheduled for later in the day with another flight instructor." said Horlach walking past the cockpit. Matt wondered what could have been so important to have elicited such an emotional response from the hardened flight instructor. The remainder of the day consisted of basic training maneuvers that lasted well into late afternoon. By the time dinner had come around, word of the shooting of Timezone's son had gotten around. Like every other meal, Matt sat with Destiny and Roadkill at a corner table.

"Did you hear about the old man's son getting shot?" said Dave the moment Matt had sat down with his tray.

"Yeah," replied Matt. "I didn't even know he had a son, wonder if he's a hard-ass like Timezone."

"Rumor mill has it that he might not make it." chimed in Destiny as she scarfed down a forkful of potatoes.

"Straight from the rumor control officer herself." teased Roadkill. Destiny just glared at him and continued to eat her dinner. "No seriously, one of the flight instructors told me on the sly that the old man's son is in critical condition with two to the chest."

"Don't police officers wear a frakking vest?" asked Roadkill.

"Apparently he was wearing his, and the rounds still penetrated it."

"Definitely not civilian rounds, sounds like military rounds if they penetrated a bullet-proof vest." said Matt. "The old man left Picon on a Raptor an hour after being notified, I guess they aren't expecting the son to make it and were rushing him there. How many jumps do you think it is from Picon to Libran?"

"Not sure, maybe six." guessed Dave.

"Not even close...man talk about being star system challenged." laughed Destiny. "So...change of subject, what Battlestar group would you guys like to be assigned to once we're certified viper pilots?" asked Destiny. "If I have my choice, I'm heading for the top dog..._Pegasus!_"

"Admiral Cain? From what I hear she's even tougher than Horlach." observed Matt.

"Ha, if you can't run with the big daggits...stay on the porch little boy." laughed Kara. "As the person who will most likely graduate in 2nd place, I'm sure you'll get a decent choice Matt, where would you go?"

Ignoring the obvious jibe, Matt looked up at the ceiling as if pondering the question. "Well, if I have my choice, I would request Battlestar group 39, the _Triton_."

"Commander James Jonasson ?" said Dave between bites. "Wow, that's a decent choice. Way I hear it...Jonasson is a pretty good Battlestar commander, a rising star in the fleet. You two have your sights aimed high, course with my luck I'll probably get the _Galactica. _I'm not sure whose older, the ship or Nash, it's commander." laughed Roadkill.

"_Galactica_? Frak...that ship is so obsolete they relegated it to intra-system duties, Gods help the poor frakkers who get stuck on _that_ scow." said destiny cleaning off the remaining food from her plate.

"_Triton_ is a good ship, not as new as _Pegasus_, but right up there." said Matt. "Yeah, _Galactica_ is an old ship, but has a good battle history, newer doesn't necessarily translate into better, Kara. You should be smart enough to know that."

"That why they scrapped most of her sister ships, or upgraded those that weren't?" challenged Kara.

"Look, I'm not gonna sit here debating which Battlestars are better, all I'm saying is that _Galactica_ has a proven battle record against the Cylons. Does _Pegasus_? No!" said Matt sharply. The three continued on with their debate on various warships throughout the fleet until late into the night.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12.

**Libran Medical Intensive Care Unit – Libran Colony**

Colonel Raol Horlach stepped off the elevator onto the sixth floor of the intensive care unit where he was met by his wife Amanda. They had been married for years, but after the first Cylon War, Raol Horlach did not want his family going through the constant upheaval of moving every time he got assigned to a new post, so Amanda and their young son Jon returned to their home colony of _Libran_ to live while Roal continued his service with Colonial Fleet. Jon would see his father for one full week a month for most of his early childhood, and as he reached his late teens those full weeks would dwindle to weekends, his parents then would alternate taking a shuttle back and forth to whatever land assignment he may have been on. When assigned to a Battlestar, Raol Horlach would be gone for months at a time with the only contact being through wireless or computer messaging. They embraced tightly, two parents worried about their son laying in room four in a medically-induced coma.

"What are they saying?" Raol finally asked.

"He took two slugs in the chest, barely missing the heart. Thank the gods he was wearing his vest under his uniform. The damage is significant though, his rehab will be long...providing he pulls through." With those last words, she started to weep gently. Raol took her in his arms and held her tightly, reassuring her that their son was strong, and that he _would_ make it!

"Colonel Horlach?" came a new voice.

The elder Horlach spun around to face a young female doctor. "Yes, I'm Raol Horlach, Jon's father."

"Thank you for getting here so quickly from Picon, I'm sure the trip was hectic. I'm Dr. Heather Long, I'm the surgeon who worked on your son."

"How is he?" asked Horlach.

"We have him sedated at this time to help in his recovery. The trauma to his thoracic region was significant, but I expect him to make a full recovery in time. Two 9mm Teflon-coated, brass-jacketed slugs were removed and turned over to investigators. The gunshots should have killed him instantly if not for his body armor that minimized the trauma, that and the fact that a young man who had combat medic experience happened upon the scene and quickly administered first aid to your son as he lay barely conscious. Your son is incredibly lucky, I've never seen anything like this in over fifteen years of being a trauma surgeon."

Amanda looked puzzled, "Teflon? Brass Jacketed?"

"It's the composition of the bullet," began Raol. "Teflon-coated bullets are handgun bullets that have been covered with a coating of Teflon to reduce barrel wear, but it's the brass core of the round that actually penetrates the protective vest that officers wear to protect themselves. Frakking things should be banned altogether."

"I agree with your assessment, colonel. As a surgeon I would prefer that all instruments of destruction be banned, life would be so much easier without all of that." interjected Dr. Long.

Horlach allowed himself a slight smile of gratitude as he took the doctor's hand. "Thank you Doctor, we can't express our gratitude enough. When can I see him?"

"You can go in right now, sir. Feel free to talk to him, even unconscious, your presence and voices will sooth him and aid in the recovery process." Colonel and Mrs. Horlach walked together into the dimly lit room, the mechanical sound of a respirator is heard as it pumps life giving oxygen into the unconscious police officer's lungs. His chest is tightly wrapped, and a drainage tube protrudes from his side, dead-ending into a sealed container attached to the side of the bed. Raol Horlach is pained to see his only son laying there, even through long separation, he had always maintained a strong relationship with the son he had hoped would follow him into Colonial Fleet instead of civilian law enforcement. He had great respect for those who swore an oath to protect the innocent, and uphold law and order, but he had hoped deep down that one day Jon would fly vipers. After college, Jon had enlisted in the Colonial reserves, and earned his viper wings, but Law Enforcement was his true love.

"If he never returns to the streets of that gods-forsaken city I won't complain, Raol." said Amanda sniffling.

"Look, when Jon pulls out of this and is released I'm going to talk with an old friend about Jon's future on the force."

"Deputy Chief Ranier?"

"Yes. He's the deputy in charge of the department's air wing. There may not be any Vipers, but they do have Raptors that they use for tactical ops, SAR and other enforcement-related issues that could use Jon's flight experience. It would get him off the streets at least." replied Raol.

"Will you tell Jon?"

"No, I'd rather him not see my hand in this. He can't be ordered into the air wing, but he can be placed there on temporary duty. Temporary transfers aren't unusual under such circumstances, and I hope he'll take advantage of the opportunity."

"He has to make it through this first..." began Amanda as she started tearing up.

Raol took her hands in his. "Amanda...Jon _will_ pull through this! His recovery will be lengthy, but he will recover. Whether or not he ever puts on a uniform is another story, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I just want to get an action plan in place. There's no rush here." Officer Jon Horlach of the Libran Police department would spend the next few months recovering in the hospital before continued rehabilitation on his own. Colonel Horlach would soon return to _Picon_ to continue training future viper pilots.

A month had passed, and four more nuggets washed out of the program. Twenty three pegs remained empty on the wall of shame. The remaining pilots grew stronger by the day, fewer mistakes were made, and soon they would be making their training flights solo. Hephaestus and Destiny were still running neck and neck for the coveted position of top student.

"Ready to accept the inevitable, Hephaestus? I mean there is no dishonor at this point if you graciously accept who the better pilot is." said Kara sitting on the edge of her desk. They were awaiting the arrival of Colonel Horlach in the classroom.

"Last time I checked I was still a full six points ahead of you in academics, Destiny. I'll admit we're both pretty much neck and neck in flying, but the bottom line is I'm still ahead of you overall. Suck it up!" At that moment the door flew open, and in walked Horlach. Eyes straight ahead, he walked over to his desk and dropped his briefcase. Someone had yelled "attention on deck!" and Horlach merely waved them off.

"As you were...except you Destiny. The top of my desks is no place for your ass, drop on down and grab some real estate." growled Horlach not even looking up. Kara had dropped to the tile and started doing push-ups for her infraction. "Listen up nuggets, today is war games. You'll be flying solo and assigned to either red or blue squadron. As usual, red squadron is the enemy attempting to destroy a battlestar still in a surface dry dock. Blue squadron is tasked with defending the dry dock." He took a sheet of paper out of his briefcase and pinned it to the board. "Check the roster for your assignments, and get out and preflight your birds."

Hephaestus broke through the clouds at over 2,120 km/h, the top speed for atmospheric flight in the Mk. IV. He counted on the blinding speed to evade DRADIS locks that simulated surface to air missiles from the dry dock defenses, and DRADIS locks from the blue team of vipers tasked with protecting the Battlestar. He was successful in preventing a lock on his fighter, sadly his wing man was not so lucky and was "taken out" by the ground defenses. His target was any one of the battlestar's main engine nacelles. He selected and armed his port wing _Spectra II_ missile function on his targeting computer. The DRADIS warned of two bandits coming up from the surface under full turbos at the eleven o'clock position. Unknown to Matt, it was Destiny and Roadkill on an intercept course to prevent his run on the battlestar. He banked and jinxed his star fighter in order to defeat the targeting computers tirelessly trying to lock onto him. Kara Fan had swore through gritted teeth as Matt evaded her best efforts to splash him.

"Mother frakker is good." said Destiny over Blue squadrons com channel. "Hold still damn it, and this'll be over fast." Kara unleashed a blistering salvo of simulated cannon-fire towards the oncoming viper, her attempt to score a kill by painting the enemy with wingtip mounted an infrared-emitting targeting device fell far short as Matt expertly evaded the fire. Something that had not gone unnoticed by the observers in crimson-colored vipers that were in the area of operations, videotaping the exercises. Matthew Lensherr was impressing many flight instructors with his natural ease in the cockpit of a viper. Matt fired off the _Spectra II missile, _not at the battlestar, but at the two vipers closing to killer range. Had the missile been real, it would have closed to within twenty meters of its target and detonated, sending an intricate explosive web in a fifty meter diameter. There would be no time to evade or slow down, the momentum of the enemy would cause it to plow right into the web, causing immediate destruction. That is exactly what happened to Destiny and Roadkill, immediate destruction.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13.

"_You frakking suck, Lensherr!"_ That was Matt's reception upon arriving at the table in the chow hall. Kara had a dour look upon her face, she knew Matt had executed a brilliant move up there. He not only took her and roadkill out, but he was able to fire off two missiles at the grounded Battlestar causing significant simulated damage to the main engines. He evaded the rest of blue squadron's best efforts to shoot him down and assisted four of his fellow members of red squadron in avoiding their destruction. Several of the flight instructors who were observing the exercise had reported to the senior instructor in-depth about Matt's performance, and the gun camera footage backed up their assessment.

Dave was not the least bit angry at getting taken out. He knew he was in the top ten percent of the class, but didn't have a chance of getting the top slot. That was reserved for Hephaestus and Destiny, and neither was willing to stand down for the other. Academically, Matt held a razor thin advantage over Kara, in order for her to beat Matt, Kara needed to be at her best in the cockpit. She had more flying experience than he, but when it came to flying the Mk. IV viper, Matt was pulling ahead of her.

"Why Kara, if I didn't know better, I'd think there was a touch of animosity in your greeting." replied Matt grinning. It was tough to stay grounded, especially after such a great day in the cockpit, but Matt managed to maintain his professionalism, and humility in the face of his friends disappointment. "You guys flew great out there, no shame in getting splashed."

"Easily said by the man doing the splashing!" sniffed Kara. "You really are going to make me fight for that top spot, aren't ya Matt?"

"Of course! I can't believe you would actually contemplate otherwise. I have every intention of taking the top spot, this isn't some dance Kara. Where any of us place in graduation directly impacts our careers." Kara's face softened as she placed her utensils down onto the tray.

"I don't need you to remind me of what's at stake here, Matt. Just make sure you stay on your game, otherwise I'm going to take you out faster than a lightning bolt from Zeus himself."

Matt smiled, and replied "I stand forewarned!"

The weeks pass and more helmets are added to the wall of shame. Sixteen empty pegs remain, and at this stage of viper school, any further wash outs would be highly unlikely, yet not unheard of. The sixteen remaining students fly every day, honing their flying skills, and doing their best to score as high in class ranking as possible to ensure a decent assignment once they've earned the much-coveted viper wings. With only three days left, the competitive mood was so thick you could slice it with a knife. Matt had fallen one point below Destiny in his academics, the margin of error for either pilot was subatomic. Any mistake at this point would cost either the top slot. Today and tomorrow was the start of operation _Black Flag. _Black Flag was the final tune-up training for viper jocks before being sent to their new assignments, and possibly into actual combat, and with a signed armistice between the Cylons and Colonials, this was unlikely to happen anytime soon. The object was to make the exercises as real and challenging as possible - to take those pilots, and push them to the limits of what they can handle. Up until this moment there had been many smaller-scaled black flag training exercises. Today starts rolling them all into one big exercise, with the final element being a race to the finish line after successfully launching training-shot missiles at a fixed DRADIS installation heavily protected by surface-to-air missiles and fighter protection.

Matt's viper slid silently through heavy cloud cover, while invisible to the naked eye, he stood out like a supernova on the DRADIS. A squadron of "Cylon raiders" were dispatched to intercept him. He was not the only pilot out there, his classmates were tasked with the same objective. Each pilot was allowed two chances to succeed at their mission. If you were killed, then you had once chance left on day two at successfully destroying the DRADIS installation and returning safely. If you were killed again, then your scores were frozen at that level. Successful completion in the fastest time was rewarded with twenty five points. In Matt and Kara's case, it made the difference between first and second place. The next nearest student was fifteen points behind them. The control stick of the viper sat firmly in hand as Matt alternated between looking out of his canopy and looking at his DRADIS screen. The "Cylon aggressors" were actually crimson colored vipers flown by seasoned instructors who were going to make their students fight tooth and nail for the prize.

The ravine below him signaled the starting point for his run on the installation. He dropped down completely from the cloud cover and nosed his viper down to the opening of the narrow steep-sided valley in the north Picon mountain range. Almost immediately three bandits were upon him, coming in fast from his four o'clock position. "Frak that was fast." swore Matt silently. He had no wing man, no fellow squadron member to aid him. Each pilot was on their own in this exercise. Matt depressed the thruster pedal deeper, increasing his speed towards the mouth of the ravine. If he had any chance of evasion, it would be in the narrow confines of the rocky valley. It was possible for bandits to come in from the top, but only in certain areas where the rock outcroppings didn't protrude too far. The three bandits pursuing him chose to follow him through the mouth of the ravine, their speed also increasing. The on-board computer warned of efforts by the bandits to establish a targeting lock on Matt's fighter. The ravine snaked and curved its way in several places where Matt would have the advantage as a single aircraft, the bandits were forced to break formation and follow single file, although staggered in their individual altitude. The tones of a targeting lock grew louder, whoever was flying the lead bandit was very good, he almost had a lock. Matt triggered the toggle switch for electronic counter measures and dropped two "jiggers." He immediately jammed the thruster pedal to the firewall and pulled back hard on the stick.

The viper climbed hard, and the pressure suit he wore which was designed to prevent a black-out and _G-_force induced Loss Of Consciousness, started to do its job. Small bladders in the lower sections of his suit inflated, forcing pooled blood up towards his upper extremities and most importantly, to the brain. He exited the ravine and quickly leveled off, wishing to remain low to the ground in order to avoid the land-based DRADIS installation's scans. The three bandits were caught off guard and were forced to remain flying through the ravine for another half mile before they could safely exit. By that time they were too far out of position to intercept Hephaestus who was now arming his training-shot Spectra II missiles. Matt was low to the ground and almost to the target. Six more bandits appeared out of nowhere, bearing down on their prey. Two were coming straight down the line, Matt switched over to the 30 mm _Thraxon_ kinetic energy weapons, or KEWS and fired off a short burst of simulated fire, striking the lead bandit. First kill went to Matt, and the bandit's wing man rolled to the port and high to avoid fire. Matt flew right by them and increased to full speed, once again changing his selector switch from KEWS to missiles. He was fast approaching the target, and was out-flying everything thrown against him. With the target now in sight off in the distance a thin smile crept across Matt's lips, he was going to win. Approaching effective firing range at over 2,120 km/h, Matt switched off his safeties and prepared to fire his missiles. The smile faded from his face as the shrill sound of a targeting lock sounded throughout the cockpit.

"I think that's close enough _fire god_. You really didn't expect it to be _that_ easy, did you?" The gravel-sounding voice of Timezone filled Matt's helmet speakers. With the sun directly aft of his crimson viper, senior flight instructor Raol "Timezone" Horlach was able to approach Matt unseen and finish him off with a dual missile strike. In an uncharacteristic moment of anger, Matt pounded the side of the interior canopy glass with his fist and swore loudly. Timezone merely smiled as he pulled up alongside of Matt's viper.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14.

The short flight back to base felt like hours instead of minutes, as a very disappointed Matthew Lensherr brought his viper down for a landing. As he taxied along to the area reserved for the parking of training vipers, Matt caught sight of four brand new Mk. V vipers being offloaded from an immense transporter. These were the latest generation of vipers, not much different in appearance, but faster and equipped with the latest advancements in Avionics and Armaments. Normally he would be wondering how fast could he complete his post flight checklist and head over to check them out, but at this moment all he wanted to do was get out of his flight leathers and go someplace quiet, away from everyone. He couldn't believe he allowed himself to get taken down so easily, and felt the anger start to overwhelm the disappointment. Deep down he knew he performed exceptionally well against the bandits, something that would be talked about for time to come between the instructors who played the roles of Cylon aggressors. He was the only pilot to get within weapons range, although at the time he didn't know it.

Completing the post flight checklist, he hit the showers and got dressed. The critique of day one of Black Flag would take place first thing in the morning. He walked out to the edge of the airfield, walking along the outside of the eight-foot high fence topped off with razor wire. Off duty he would have no reason to be out on the restricted tarmac, as a student he definitely would not be given access. He watched as a Humvee manned by two extremely mean-looking Colonial Marines patrolled the inner perimeter. The passenger nodded to Lensherr as they drove by and Matt continued along the fence line, hiking up to a mid-sized butte. He sat down cross-legged as twilight approached. He eagerly awaited the stars to appear in the sky, the peace and serenity of the nighttime skies always comforted Matt on _Aerilon_, and continued to do so now on far away _Picon_. He found himself missing the comforts of the Lensherr family farm, more specifically the comfort of his family around the dinner table. Roadkill and Destiny were his closest friends at the academy, but they weren't family. He looked up at the stars that made up the "Cyrannus galaxy" home to the twelve colonies of Kobol and wondered what it would be like to fly through it in a new Mk. V viper. The cool nighttime breeze invigorated him, and he finally allowed himself to smile, to fully appreciate the celestial majesty above him. _Picon_ was altogether different from his home colony of _Aerilon_. The former being a turquoise planet, mainly covered by water and famous for its harbors, while the latter was an agricultural world. He wanted to see every colony, especially _Caprica_. often regarded as the center of Colonial civilization. The military would be his means to do so. Thirty years had passed since the signing of the armistice with the Cylons, and much to the suspicion of the senior command officers of the military, and some politicians, they remained silent in unknown shadows. Piracy had long taken the place of the Cylon threat, but theirs were more a threat to law and order than to human survival. Their numbers grew far beyond local law enforcement's ability to control, they traveled from colony to colony, at times leaving authorities powerless to pursue beyond their home colony's jurisdiction. Eventually, the military was given authority to do what local law enforcement could not, take the fight to the pirates. Matt knew that whatever his assignment would be, it would involve action. Laying flat on his back with hands clasped behind his head he took special notice of a **Globular Cluster****; ****a** compact, spherical grouping of hundreds of thousands of stars. Globular clusters were generally made up of older stars, and are usually found around the central regions of a galaxy. He wondered why the colonies never put real effort into space exploration outside of their own star system. With the availability of faster-than-light propulsion units, they could be making new discoveries, possibly new contacts with other life forms far beyond the twelve worlds. The night was getting late, and he wanted to get a good night's sleep before tomorrow's final flight. Climbing down from the butte he jogged back to the dorm and fell asleep.

**Black Flag Exercise – Final Flight**

The second and final day of Black Flag was about to start, the morning was chilly, and sun shining brightly on _Picon_. Sixteen pilots made attempts to knock out the target, a land-based DRADIS installation, sixteen pilots were utterly destroyed either by bandits or surface to air missile batteries tasked with protecting the site. Only _Hephaestus_ came within visual range of the target before getting blown out of the sky by simulated missile fire from _Timezone's_ crimson viper. _Destiny's_ viper was taken down by four bandits mimicking the dreaded Cylon pinwheel attack that had claimed many viper pilots during the Cylon war. The same was inflicted upon _Roadkill_, none of them even coming close to the target.

Matt's viper was fully fueled, and two training-shot missiles were attached to the wing rails. Matt carefully inspected the fan blades on the air intakes, and firmly pulled on the five foot, light blue missiles beneath the wings of his viper to ensure they were firmly attached. He climbed the portable stairs up to the cockpit and lowered himself down into the seat. His crew chief ensured that his safety harness, and pressure hoses were properly attached before handing him his helmet. At that moment, Colonel Horlach appeared on the opposite side of the viper, Matt peered down at him. "Good morning sir."

"I don't see what's so frakking good about it, Hephaestus. You're at a one point disadvantage against Destiny, and you've used up one life already in Black Flag. You die up there today...it'll be second place for you." said Horlach dryly. Matt was going to reply, but correctly thought better of it. "You did good yesterday, by far some of the best student flying I've ever seen, almost as good as Kara Thrace." Matt took that as a compliment. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace was reputed to be one of the best viper pilots ever to have graduated from the academy. "However...you still died. Be aware of your surroundings, count on more than just your instruments, son...and you may pull this off." With that, Horlach walked to his viper. Matt fired up his engines and prepared to taxi out to the runway.

The morning progressed as student pilots made their runs on the installation. Many of them apparently learned their lessons from the day before, making the bandits work harder for their kills. Roadkill had deftly evaded another pinwheel attack, scoring crippling blows against two of the bandits before climbing to a higher altitude. Destiny was leading a trio of bandits closer to the ground, where vertical terrain might assist her. Picon was mostly comprised of water, but there were decent sized continents present.

Two crimson vipers representing Cylon bandits were fast on Destiny's six, all of her efforts to shake them were meeting with failure. She pushed the thruster pedal to the firewall and aimed her viper towards the north where another set of bandits were ruthlessly pursuing another student viper. She had one chance and it was an extremely dangerous one. She constantly jerked the control left to right to keep her pursuers from getting a weapons lock on her, but they were gaining, closing the distance. Suddenly she pushed the control forward, taking her viper into a dive. Proximity warnings sounded, and she soon passed between the other viper and pursuing bandits, causing the bandits to break formation. With the two vipers scattering, it caused her own pursuers to break formation to avoid a mid air collision. Horlach was going to be pissed, thought Kara, but she was in this to win, and she improvised, adapted and overcame the situation.

To the west, Matt was hugging the terrain, trying to remain below the DRADIS scans. He kept his eyes on his own DRADIS, and frequently checked the sun to see if anyone was going to try and sneak up on him like Timezone had done the day before. It wasn't long before they found him, three bandits in tight formation coming in from behind Pisces mountain . Banking right he increased speed heading out towards a heavily forested area that would take him on an indirect course to the target. The bandits gave chase, and he was sure Horlach was in the lead ship. His combat computer warned loudly of multiple enemy targeting scans attempting to lock onto his viper. He was not in a good tactical position, and he needed to correct that immediately. The area he was approaching contained large trees, some as tall as one hundred and fifty feet. He needed to stay close to tree-top level and out of the open skies. The trio of bandits stayed close, not giving him any chance to let his guard down for a moment. One of the bandits peeled off, disappearing altogether around a large mountain peak. The two remaining bandits pressed hard, forcing Hephaestus to constantly reevaluate his position. _"You run real good, fire god!"_ said Horlach over the comline. _"Please tell me you're going to make the chase worth it." _Matt blocked out out the voice, he knew that Timezone was trying to distract him. There was no way he was going to turn and engage Horlach, he knew his only chance was to get to the target and complete the mission.

The intensity of the warning threatened to split Matt's eardrums as he snapped his head to the right just in time to see the oncoming bandit that had split off earlier from Horlach's group. Instinctively he banked hard left, breaking the split second targeting lock that was acquired, not long enough to classify him as a KIA. His increased speed and abrupt course deviation took him lower over the treetops, low enough that the training-shot missile under the port wing caught the top of one of the trees, violently ripping it off the rail. Matt ignored the computer's damage alarms and fought to regain control of the aircraft. A quick glance at the instrument panel revealed he was level, so he pulled back hard on the yoke and pushed down hard on the thruster pedal. He had to get away from the low altitude dangers he suddenly found himself in. Horlach observed the encounter, and was impressed at Matt's quick reflexes and ability not only to have broken the targeting lock, but also to recover his aircraft after skimming the top of the trees. Matt was successful in breaking away from the bandits, the lone bandit overshot him, and the other two broke right and high to avoid flying through the jet wash of the lone bandit. It would take Horlach and his fellow bandits time to correct course and get back in position, by that time Matt would have a substantial lead on them.

His on-board computer revealed a malfunction to the port missile launcher, unknown to Hephaestus, the missile was no longer even there, but down on the surface of the forest that almost ended his chances at accomplishing the mission, and perhaps even ending his life. It was now or never, he decided to make his run on the installation. He was roughly ten miles out, and there were too many chances for error, or just plain bad luck that far out. He decided to fly as close to ground level as safely possible, once within effective firing range of his training-shot missile he would gain altitude and fire his lone missile and return to base as fast as possible. Matt was traveling over 1,800 km/h at no more than twenty to thirty feet above the surface. While far from the Mk. IV viper's top speed, flying so close to uneven terrain was extremely dangerous at that speed. He would follow the ravine leading to the north side of the installation, that section of the ravine was extremely dangerous, even for a well-seasoned pilot. Flying those straits were routinely discouraged by the base commander, though there was no official order prohibiting it. Oddly enough, Matt felt surprisingly calm traversing the ravine, knowing full well that a misstep would leave he and his viper smeared all over the rocky walls.

Destiny had made it this far, all attempts to splash her ended up in failure, and now the prize was in sight, and she was not about to let it slip through her fingers. She was traveling just under the viper's top speed, and was almost in effective firing range when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. A viper had exploded out of Deaths head ravine and was gaining altitude before her. _"Lensherr you mother frakker!"_ yelled Destiny over the comline. She increased speed and pulled up alongside him. Matt was equally surprised to see Kara so close to the target, combat computers in both vipers blared warnings of surface to air missile simulated fire erupting all around them. It was now or never, neither viper would be able to get any closer. Matt thumbed the missile select switch on the control stick, and released the safety. His targeting computer locked onto the DRADIS installation, after a few seconds of solid tone he fired off his lone missile. Destiny fired off both of hers, all three missiles streaking towards the target which was nothing more than a mock up of a medium sized DRADIS installation, complete with antenna and parabolic reflectors. The aim of both pilots were dead on, as Matt's missile struck first, resulting in a twelve inch diameter hole through the front of the structure. Destiny's two missiles penetrated the roof. Direct hits! Had these missiles been war-shot instead of training-shot missiles, the devastation would have been immense. Both vipers veered away from each other, reversing their course, the race back to base was now on.

The hardest part of the exercise was thought to have been taking out the target. Both pilots soon realized how wrong they were when their DRADIS revealed a dozen bandits on an intercept course. Once the target was destroyed, a recall order was sent out to all students to return to base. If you did not take part in the installation's destruction you were directed to land on runway alpha, leaving gamma runway clear for the student responsible for destroying the target. That student would be doing their best to evade bandits and land as fast as they could in order to win. To the surprise of almost everyone, there wasn't one, but two students involved in the race.

Raol "Timezone" Horlach had both incoming vipers on his DRADIS. A message from an observer based near the target explained that two vipers broke through the defenses and fired their missiles simultaneously, scoring direct hits. This had never happened before, but that really didn't make any difference. His job was to prevent both from reaching the finish line. If he was successful in taking out both vipers, the pilot with the highest score would automatically win. Two student vipers were fast approaching, the bandits split up into four groups of three and engaged.

Matt knew he had his work cut out for him, the oncoming bandits would soon be on him with a vengeance, Destiny rolled left and low, attempting to get beneath the bandits. DRADIS scans bathed the area, and Matt wasn't about to allow a missile lock at this stage of the game. Horlach would be the main threat, he had to avoid him at all costs. Gaining altitude would only make him an easier target so he dove for the deck. If he could make Deaths head ravine he might have a chance of evading them. Horlach noted his flight path, and could have ordered him out of there, but he was wanted to see first hand just how good Matthew Lensherr could be under pressure. He flew the unofficial "off limits" ravine many times, and knew that Matt used it to get in close to the target. He increased speed and altered course to follow Matt into the ravine. Over their secure comline, Horlach instructed one group of bandits to await Lensherr at the exit of the ravine, and the rest to take down Destiny. "No we see how good you _really_ are, fire god!" said Horlach over the open frequency.

"You might want to increase your speed if you intend on catching me..._sir!_" replied Matt boldly. Timezone merely smiled, depressing the thruster pedal deeper, his crimson viper a blur against the cold, brown, rocky ravine. Matt was surprised how easily Horlach gained on him and increased his speed. His reflexes were amazingly quick as he seemed to see the winding ravine almost in slow to medium motion. It was well known amongst the students and instructors that Hephaestus had a gift for flying, and he was now proving how good he was. Unfortunately for him, the man chasing him was just as good, no...he was better, and he was gaining.

_Destiny_ had her hands full, the bandits were kicking the felgercarb out of her, she was totally defensive, and forced to remain alert and off balance by the numbers against her. She was able to take out two of the bandits, but that had almost been by pure luck. She was flying against seasoned viper pilots who were also instructors at the academy. She was forced further off her desired course by the relentless attacks by the bandits. She needed to break free if she was going to cross the finish line before _Hephaestus_.

The speeds in which the two vipers were traveling through the ravine was bordering on reckless, had the base commander been aware of such events he most assuredly would have them break off. Horlach was using his own discretion, he was pushing Lensherr hard, but not to the point he knew his student was capable of handling. He deftly avoided the targeting lock, but the constant warning alarms blaring in the cockpit started to distract him. High above him he caught a glimpse of two crimson vipers, he then realized that they would be waiting for him at the exit, that _Timezone_ was herding him into the trap. He had to break free and soon. Towards the end of the ravine, the tops of the ravine extended far out, creating a rocky canopy in some spots. He saw the opening he wanted, with a quick blast of maneuvering thrusters and flaps, Matt pulled back on the stick and flew through an opening that no sane viper pilot would have attempted at his speed. The top stabilizer fin skimmed the rocky outcropping, causing it to crumple at the very top. The moment he broke free of the ravine he reversed his thrust to the point of almost engine stall. A surprised Horlach was caught unprepared and cursed himself. Lensherr played it perfectly, he forced his pursuer to continue on through the semi-enclosed ravine where the soonest availability to egress was another mile. The two bandits tasked with ambushing him were caught unprepared when Matt's viper suddenly appeared on DRADIS way out of position, and on a flightpath leading him to victory unimpeded.

Destiny was starting to run low on fuel, and fatigue was starting to dull her senses. She needed to break free, and do it now. She turned directly into the path of the three bandits firing wildly, the lead viper's computer announced a direct kill shot and the pilot withdrew from the attack. As he was falling back, Destiny used that moment to drop and roll while kicking in the burn. That caught the remaining two vipers off guard as she sped past them from below. They were quick to compensate, but as she passed them she discharged her counter measures in an attempt to foul their targeting locks. She was in open field under full turbos heading for gamma runway with bandits far behind.

Matt knew he would reach the finish line before Destiny, but he continued under full thrusters, not wishing to leave anything to chance. His pulse quickened when he saw the runway in the distance. His preoccupation with the finish line left him unaware of the small flock of Tellans that were about to ruin his day. Two of the birds struck the high engine intake, causing an explosion that ripped the already crumpled stabilizer fin off the viper. Thick black smoke trailed the viper as Matt fought to control the ship.

"Holy Frak, what the hell happened Matt?" yelled Kara over their comline. Matt either didn't hear or just ignored Destiny as he activated the fire suppression system to the engine fully engulfed by flame. "Hephaestus, Destiny...are you going to declare an emergency or what?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? I still have two fully functioning engines, and my aircraft is under control. I'll see you at the finish line." said Matt as he shut down power to the engine. As the senior flight instructor, Horlach was able to monitor the communications between the students, and he wasn't sure if he should be impressed with Hephaestus' guts to continue the competition with a damaged viper, or to declare an emergency on his behalf and order him to set his craft down. He decided to let things ride out, both pilots deserved to see this through to the end after the fight they put up to get where they now were. With one engine down, Destiny was catching up. "Come on baby, not much further, hold it together." coaxed Matt as he brought the nose of his viper down. The dive was steep and a new warning alarm flashed. It was the fire suppression system, it failed. Matt could see the flames flickering above him. This was going to be a photo finish. Gamma runway was the longest runway on Picon, and a long paper banner stretched across the finish line at the very start of the runway in order for the planes to fly through it and slow down in enough time to safely land. The alarms blared loudly in Matt's cockpit as more system failures started to occur.

"Hephaestus you crazy bastard, you are _not_ going to screw me!"

"What a shame, I was looking forward to that as my victory present." laughed Matt. Destiny was almost on him, his speed was maxed out and it was going to be close. The banner shredded as Matt's viper tore through it fourteen feet ahead of Destiny. To the naked eye, it was difficult to see who won, but fortunately the finish line was covered by video cameras at various angles, and the cameras weren't wrong. Lieutenant Junior Grade Matthew "Hephaestus" Lensherr was the winner.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15.

Matt had little time to react before the hastily-formed firing squad lifted their weapons. He threw up his hands in the hope of deflecting the attack, the effort was in vain as he was struck by the streams of ambrosia fired from his classmates. Destiny stood in the corner of the room, a bottle of cheap ambrosia clenched in her hand, and scowl across her face. Despite the fact that she had been a pilot much longer than Matt, despite her best efforts, Lt. Kara Fan still came in second place. She would not get the first choice of assignments, not the coveted spot as top of her class. A soaked to the skin Matt Lensherr accepted the congratulations and well wishes of his peers, with a strong sense of pride in his accomplishments. The celebratory atmosphere calmed a bit upon the arrival of senior flight instructor Horlach and another instructor. Both offered their congratulations, and soon Horlach was leading Matt towards a quieter part of the room.

"Congratulations Hephaestus, Black Flag was the culmination of some incredible flying, you and your classmates should be very proud of yourselves."

"Thank you sir." replied Matt smartly. He knew that Horlach was not one to generally heap praise on students, but he knew he did an incredible job at flying, and he knew that Horlach knew that as well.

"Pretty ballsy taking that viper in all the way on two engines and structural damage to the vertical stabilizer," began Horlach. "Let me be honest with you...if it was any other pilot, I would have ordered you to land immediately and it would have been Destiny taking the ambrosia shower instead of you." Horlach took a pint of Caprican ale that he had ordered from a waitress and took a sip. "You kept your head throughout that emergency, and brought your aircraft in, albeit in worse shape than when you took off in her. According to your 'wish list' that was issued to all students at the start of the class, your first choice of assignment was the Battlestar _Triton, _with a second choice of the _Yashuman, _correct_?_"

"Yes sir."

"Both battlestars are an excellent choice, good ships and good commanders. Most of your fellow students chose _Pegasus_ or _Valkryie." _observed Horlach. "Regardless, you graduated top of your class, and will be given your first choice of assignment aboard the _Triton_. Commander Jonnason is an excellent line officer, you've made a great choice. Best of luck to you, lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir!" Matthew Lensherr was now a fully-fledged viper pilot, and junior officer in the Colonial armed forces, the smile on his face was starting to feel as if it was carved directly into the flesh. Noticing Kara strolling over to him he did his best to stifle that smile. She was extremely disappointed, and being her friend, Matt felt slightly sorry for her second place finish. Stopping within a few feet, Kara lifted the half empty bottle of ambrosia in a toast.

"All hail Hephaestus!" said Kara loudly. "To the best pilot of class Epsilon 126, may pirates quake in their boots, and _clankers_ tremble when he takes to the skies." She took a long pull from the bottle and then thrust it forward into Matt's waiting hands.

"Thank you lass." said Matt with his notable raspy Aerilonian accent. He too took a long pull of the bottle and handed it back to Kara. "Don't feel badly Kara, someone had to come in second place, and you have no idea how close you came to there being a different outcome."

"That makes me feel _so much better_, Matt!" replied Kara in mock sarcasm. "You won fair and square, you flew your ass off and made it look effortless...you deserved your reward. The _Triton_ is a good ship, you'll be an incredible addition to her air wing."

"Look Kara, these months at the academy were tough, but you and Dave...your friendship made it so much more bearable. I hope we keep in contact whenever possible." At that moment a very intoxicated Lt. Dave Wright came up from behind, placing a friendly headlock on Matt, he then proceeded to pour the contents of his glass over Matt's already drenched head.

"Congratu-frakking-lations Matty, you kicked all our asses, or as the say on Aerilon...kicked all our _arses_!" I think they're gonna be talking about your black flag ending for quite a few godsdamned years to come." slurred Dave.

"Maybe my name will be carved up in the latrine stalls right next to Starbuck's." joked Matt. "Not that our paths will probably ever cross." he added.

"You didn't know she used to be on the _Triton_? She had pissed off some officer with countless charges of insubordination and eventually transferred to _Galactica_."

"_Galactica_? That's basically a career dead end." said Matt softly, that must have been maddening for someone like Kara Thrace. The party continued for some hours into the night. Graduates would begin out-processing in two days, and within a week be at their new postings.

**Landing Bay Alpha – Battlestar _Triton_**

"_Raptor 249 you are cleared for landing on the Alpha landing bay, welcome to the Triton!" _announced the _Triton's_ Landing Signals Officer over the comline. The raptor pilot released control of the craft to allow the computerized auto-landing systems to network with the ship's controls and guide it into the designated flightpod. The ECO turned to the four passengers in the cabin.

"Alright folks, we're on final approach, welcome to the _Triton_." said Lieutenant Alex "Crashdown" Quartararo. The fifty ton raptor is gently brought down to an assigned lift on the deck, with magnetic locks securing the ship to the decking, the ship is lowered into the hanger bay below. After a few minutes the hatch opens revealing interior of the immense hanger bay. Mk. V vipers parked neatly in their berths, deck hands in orange jumpsuits scurried about their duties. The four passengers disembarked as the pilot remained on board to conduct a post flight checklist. Standing just beyond the platform was a rather tall viper pilot sporting the collar insignia of a Major.

"Good evening gentlemen, my name is Major Alexander Corbo, I am the _Triton's_ CAG." Corbo spoke with a calm, measured tone that revealed a slight Caprican accent. His military bearing obvious by the manner in which he stood, his speech formal. Matt's first impression was that Corbo had attended some of Caprica's most prestigious academies of higher learning. With hands clasped firmly at the small of his back he continued. "I realize you have all had a long trip out from _Picon_ and may be tired, so I will make this brief." A young female ensign stepped forward. "This is ensign Bryce, she will escort you to pilot's country where you will check in with your individual squadron leader. They in turn, will direct you to your assigned quarters where you can unpack and refresh yourselves. The mess hall will remain open for another hour and a half if you care to grab some chow and reveille will be at 0600. You will all report to the pilot's ready room for a briefing at 0730, make sure you are _not_ late. You've all graduated from the academy, so you can dispense with that rigid academy felgercarb, you are now members of Battlestar group 39...welcome aboard." He nodded to the four new pilots and turned on his heel, ascending the catwalk ladder gracefully.

Juliette Bryce was a young woman of perhaps twenty four, her rank was that of the lowest commissioned officer in the Colonial fleet. Petite with dirty blonde hair tied in a bun, she was moderately attractive and all business, politely turning away advances from several crew members aboard her short stay on _Triton_. "Sirs, if you would follow me I'll take you over to officer's country." As the ascended the catwalk's ladder she continued. "All pilots are berthed one deck above this level on both flight pods in order to ensure an expedient response time to action stations. The ship's quartermaster has already deposited two sets of clean bunk linens to your assigned rack." The entourage continued along the wide, spartan corridor leading to the private quarters of the pilots. Unlike the majority of a battlestar's crew compliment who were usually berthed in twelve man staterooms, viper pilots were assigned berths according to squadrons. A Colonial battlestar operates generally with four squadrons with 10 to 16 pilots each. Each squadron has a mix of Viper and Raptor pilots. The staterooms contained six racks, and Matt would soon discover he would be assigned to _green squadron _which consisted of three staterooms total.

**Pilot's Country – Port Flight Pod**

After meeting with Captain Scott Croft, the squadron leader for Green squadron, Matt reported to his stateroom which currently was empty of occupants. He dumped out the contents of his duffel bag onto his assigned rack, quickly separating his spare utilities from dress uniform, toiletries and personal items from tech manuals and the thick binder containing the rules and regulations for the Colonial Military. He opened the small safe within his locker and gently placed the service pistol he was issued when he out-processed _Picon_. The black-colored weapon was a full-size semi-automatic delayed blow-back pistol that uses 5.7x 28mm ammunition, standard issue for Colonial fleet. He changed out of the green utilities he had been wearing for sixteen straight hours and into a fresh set. After affixing his collar pins, he secured his locker and made up his bunk before exiting for the chow hall.

The walk from pilot's country to the mess hall was roughly fifteen minutes, up six decks toward the center of the battlestar. Upon entering the mess hall Matt had noticed a table occupied by pilots, he grabbed a tray and proceeded to fill it with the night's dinner options. He poured himself a large mug of coffee and walked towards the table. Several pilots looked up as he approached.

"Evening." began Matt. "I'm Matt Lensherr, just arriving from _Picon_." A tall, lanky pilot with a baby face was the first to respond.

"Welcome aboard lieutenant. I'm Peter Carrington, you can call me _Greenbean." _Carrington also belonged to Green squadron, he was well liked aboard Triton, and often could be found playing Triad in the pilot's rec room. The two would become fast friends.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16.

**Pilot's Ready Room – Battlestar _Triton_**

Sixteen viper and raptor pilots waited in the briefing room, a shout of _"attention on deck!" _reverberated throughout the room as the CAG entered.

"At ease, remain seated." replied Major Alexander Corbo as he took to the podium. He opened up a thin binder and looked out at the pilots assembled before him. "Good morning. First, I would like to take this moment to welcome Lieutenant junior grade Matthew Lensherr to _Triton_ and Green squadron. His call sign is _Hephaestus_, and he graduated top in his class in the academy, congratulations lieutenant."

"Thank you sir." replied Lensherr. Nods of approval were cast his way. New pilots generally had to prove themselves when they arrived at a new assignment, but the fact that he graduated top of the viper academy indicated that this nugget was a good stick. The fact that the contents of his personnel file that was forwarded from Picon Fleet Headquarters was already trickling out seemed to be impressing even those normally skeptical of nuggets.

"Hephaestus, you've been assigned viper 271, get well acquainted with her, she's yours exclusively until the day you transfer." said Corbo. "Alright people, on to business. The pirates have struck another civilian ship, this time a freighter out of _Leonis_, carrying a supply of Leonis Estates Sparkling Wine bound for _Scorpia_. The pirates allegedly air locked the captain and his senior staff, leaving the crew the choice of conscription or an airlock. One thousand pallets containing over fifty four cases of wine each were stolen. That's 648,000 bottles of fine wine not making it to the luxury resorts in Argentum Bay!" Some catcalls and whistles erupted in the room, most of the men and women present couldn't afford to partake in the pleasures of some of the exclusive resorts on _Scorpia_ on their military salary, and felt little sympathy for the rich patrons who wouldn't get their preferred wine. The loss of life of members of the freighter crews were another story, while not fellow military shipmates, they were still members of a ship under colonial registry, and their murders were cold and unnecessary. The pirates were getting out of control and more brazen, word from the civilian leadership to Picon Fleet Headquarters was to start dealing with the piracy issue with extreme prejudice.

"Major how the frak are they even pulling these jobs off? Aren't any of these freighters armed, or have contracted security ships riding escort?" asked one pilot in the second row.

"Unknown Lynx, the pirates are reportedly FTL equipped, they jump in close, fire a few rounds across their victim's bow and force them to surrender their cargo under threat of death. Air locking seems to be the preferred method of late." replied the CAG. "These frakkers are getting more brazen, we've received unconfirmed reports of them using old vipers in their attacks. Freighter captains have been instructed check for current IFF codes when approached by a colonial viper, but eventually I'm sure they'll find a way to get current recognition codes."

"Next item...the deck chief would appreciate it if you guys would stop leaving coffee cups on their tool chests." Corbo looked up, a bewildered look upon his face and merely said, "Look, I don't need to be dealing with this nonsense...when you're finished with your crap, take that extra few feet and put it in a trash receptacle. I mean really, how frakking lazy are some of you people? The knuckle-draggers already feel like you pilots look down on them, these are the men and women who make sure your fighter goes down those tubes in tip top shape, show some frakking respect... _understood?_"

"_Yes sir!" _replied the room in unison. Corbo continued on for another twenty minutes discussing trainings and other items pertinent to the air wing.

"Alright, final item...Colonial Day activities aboard _Triton_ will be posted on the wall by the end of the day. Rumor mill has it that Triton's air wing may be used in a ceremonial flyover at Delphi on _Caprica, _but as usual...nothing can be confirmed, so don't sweat it." Colonial Day was the annual anniversary of the signing of the _Articles of Colonization; _the act which formed the unitedgovernment of the Twelve Colonies of _Kobol._

"If there are no questions, comments, or snide frakking remarks then head out to your fighters for preflight. Green squadron is skids up in ninety minutes..._dismissed!_" Matt grabbed his tri-fold knee board that contained star charts, flight computers/plotters, flashlight, pen, pilot notes and more. A fully charged nav/com hand-held transceiver was securely affixed in its holder and he made his way to the hanger bay. Greenbean had kept pace with him on the short trip to the hanger bay, this would be Green squadrons first training flight with their newest pilot.

"You're about to experience the best feeling in the twelve worlds, climbing into the cockpit of your very first viper. Training vipers don't count, this one is your very own my friend." said Greenbean. The two enter the hanger via the catwalk suspended thirty feet above the deck. Descending the ladder, Matt makes his way over to berth 16 which contained a relatively new Mk. V viper, tail number 4997CE, the CE standing for Constellation Epsilon. Matt ran his fingertips along the nose all the way up to the open cockpit. He could feel his heart beating a furious rhythm of excitement.

"It's absolutely beautiful." whispered Matt. Greenbean chuckled as he climbed up into the viper in the next berth.

"Easy nugget, try not get off in your shorts before you even sit in the frakking bird, will ya?" Matt ignored the comment and climbed up into the cockpit. He began his preflight check. Thirty minutes later members of the hanger deck crew were soon moving his viper into one of _Triton's_ eighty launch tubes. The large airtight metal doors seal shut, and the doors at the end of the launch tube open, allowing the tube to open up into space. One hundred and seventy feet until the icy grip of the vacuum of space. The launch supervisor stood behind a large observation port in the control booth, running launch checks with each and every viper.

Hephaestus: "Instruments... in the green. Fuel pressure... nominal." Launch supervisor: "Viper 271, you are cleared for launch." Hephaestus: "Run-up." Launch Supervisor: "Maglock secure, initiate launch sequence, good luck lieutenant...launching."  
With those words, the launch supervisor presses the launch button and a magnetic catapult threw Matthew Lensherr's Viper out at great speed. Matt could feel the powerful Voram engines come alive as he neared the end of the tubes. He was soon free of _Triton_ and roaring through space. He immediately takes position alongside his wing man. The feel of the Mk. V was almost intoxicating, looking over his shoulder he witnesses the massive Colonial Battlestar grow smaller as the squadron pulled away to start their maneuvers.

Over the next two months, Lieutenant junior grade Matthew Lensherr would learn his way around his new battlestar. The _Triton_ was less than ten years old, she was the last battlestar constructed in the _Pacifica_ class. A peacetime military budget was under constant attack by political leaders who wished to see funds transferred to their pet projects instead of expensive warships that were used more for peacekeeping then for fighting Cylons who disappeared to who knew where decades ago. The _Mercury_ class battlestar would eventually be the last Colonial model battlestar funded.  
Matt had quickly made new friends, but missed his two friends from the academy. Kara "Destiny" Fan had succeeded in getting the post of her choice; _Pegasus_, while Dave "Roadkill" Wright, much to Matt's surprise, may have turned out to be clairvoyant, he was assigned to the _Galactica_. Greenbean turned out to be quite different from either of them, it turned out he was a voracious reader of poetry. Historically, natives of _Sagittaron_ were distrustful of the military, yet here was Greenbean, a viper pilot in Colonial fleet. To Matt, it was an odd passion for a hotshot viper pilot who lost more than he won when playing Triad. The lanky Sagittaron wrote much of his own poetry, and usually would subject Matt to countless pages of his work. Claims of being an uncivilized Aerilonian farmer unworthy of critiquing poetry failed to deter Greanbean who would normally leave the pages on Matt's bunk.  
Battlestar group 39 was patrolling the outer limits of the Colonies, six battlestars and four warstars rounded off the group. Minor run-ins with pirates dotted the tour so far, one small freighter hauling pallets of Sarcoma; a brand of cigarettes that were purposely missing their tax stamps, was intercepted and turned over to the authorities from _Leonis_, the nearest colony. Two other suspected pirate vessels were able to jump away at the first sight of colonial vipers sent to intercept them, their cargo unknown. On this day, members of Green squadron were engaged in a live fire training session. A session that just took a decidedly different turn.

**Combat information Center – Battlestar Triton, the present **

"_Viper 271 to Triton requesting emergency approach!" _

"Triton to Viper 271, you are cleared for emergency approach to the starboard landing bay, call the ball!"

"Viper 271 has the ball, speed 2.5 bingo fuel." Gripping the controls, Lieutenant junior grade Matthew Lensherr fought to maintain control of his Mark V viper. System failure warnings sounded loudly, but he was able to block their sound out while acknowledging the severity of the situation. Matt Lensherr had only been assigned to the Battlestar _Triton_ for three months, he graduated top of his class and as a reward was given his choice of assignment. He immediately opted for Battlestar Group 39, a group well reputed for its exceptional viper pilots and command staff. The _Triton_ was under command of Commander James Jonasson. 

**Twenty minutes earlier**

Starting on a training exercise amongst Green squadron landed him in the predicament he currently finds himself. A missile run on remote drones was supposed to be routine, but the guidance system on an air-to-air missiles locked onto _his_ viper instead of the remote drone. Kicking in the battle thrusters Matthew Lensherr attempted to outrace the incoming missiles, his viper was not loaded with counter measures known as swallows. He knew this to be futile; the missiles would overtake him in mere moments. Dradis sweep indicated an asteroid field close by and Lensherr steered his viper toward it at full speed.

_"Krypter, krypter, krypter...viper 271 declaring an emergency. I have a live war-shot missile locked onto my ship, attempting to evade." _

Green squadron's leader reacted immediately. "Green leader to all wings, terminate training exercise immediately…all ships return to _Triton_. "Green leader to Hephaestus…you have to be prepared to eject, without swallows to deploy you have little chances of outrunning the missile, copy."

"Green leader, Hephaestus…message received. I have an asteroid field on my Dradis and will attempt to lose it in there." The missile was gaining, and the asteroid field was just ahead now. Lensherr pushed hard against the thruster pedal, he felt like he would push it through the firewall.

On board _Triton_, the Junior Officer Of the Deck summoned the executive officer and commanding officer to the CIC.

"Sitrep, Lieutenant!" barked the XO.

"Viper 271 has declared an emergency sir, during the training exercise a missile locked onto his viper instead of the decoy drone." Reported the JOOD.

"Viper 271 isn't that the new pilot…Lensherr?" asked the XO.

"Affirmative XO, the squadron leader terminated the exercise and ordered all vipers to land. He's attempting to intercept the missile, but he's too far off and Hephaestus is attempting to lose the missile in the asteroid field."

_"Are you fraking kidding me?" _asked the executive officer. "That rookie pilot is going to try and navigate an asteroid field…order him to punch out!"

"Hephaestus, Triton…you are directed to eject immediately! Repeat…_eject immediately!"_

"Triton, Hephaestus…I'm already within the field, unable to safely eject." Replied Hephaestus coolly. The missile was almost on him, and Lensherr banked his fighter hard to stay close to the much larger asteroids hoping to have the missile strike it. This was risky flying for extremely seasoned veterans, never mind a new pilot. Oddly though, Lensherr did not feel panicked, he knew what he had to do and knew what the outcome would be if he failed.

Commander Jonasson was now entering the CIC. "Commander has the deck…what's happening XO?"

"Rookie pilot declared an emergency, the missile in their training exercise locked onto his viper instead of the decoy drone. Currently he's attempting to lose it in the asteroid field."

"Does the squadron leader have a visual on him?" asked the XO to the JOOD.

"Patch me in with the squadron leader." ordered Jonasson.

"Green Leader, Triton…stand by for _Triton_ Actual."

"Go ahead Actual!"

'What's going on out there, Captain?"

"Air-to-air missile locked onto one of my pilots during the exercise, sir. He's trying to lose it in the asteroid field…_holy frak_ this kid is going through the asteroid belt at his top speed, I've never seen anything like it!"

Lensherr split his concentration between the asteroids before him and the missile behind him. Dradis was next to useless due to the debris field. He kept glancing back hoping to get mark one eyeballs on the incoming missile. Matthew Lensherr was flying flawlessly in an environment that was lethal at the speeds he was traveling. He remained absolutely calm, yet alert; a trait that has served him well throughout his life. Two large asteroids at ten o'clock high, it was perfect. Pulling back hard and to the left he aimed his viper for the dead center of both, he would only have one shot at this, the missile was about to crawl up his engines. He roared through the massive rocks, the bottom of his wings scraping against them loudly. The missile impacted against side of the smaller asteroid, the explosion resulted in a tremendous amount of turbulence, a 12 inch piece of jagged metal shrapnel tore a large hole in the fuel tank, it was nothing short of miraculous that an explosion didn't result from it.

The blinding flash temporarily blinded the squadron leader as he desperately attempted to scan the debris field. Dradis was useless, and he could not pick up a Colonial transponder.  
"Hephaestus, green leader…come in!"

"Green leader, Hephaestus…I'm okay, my viper is still intact. I'm reading a fuel leak, possibly a result of the detonation; I'm clearing the asteroid field now."

"I'm on your wing rookie, let's get back to _Triton_."

**Presently…**  
"Viper 271 has the ball, speed 2.5 bingo fuel. Be advised I have numerous system failures across the board." Reported Lensherr, no trace of panic in his voice. Something that did not go unnoticed by Jonasson.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17.

Viper 271 was slowly lowered from the landing bay to the hanger deck where a small crowd had already gathered. Almost all of Green squadron was on hand, as well as the CAG and Commander Jonnason himself. Matt could fell his stomach begin to knot up. The canopy opened up and Matt climbed down. He was soon face-to face with his commanding officer.

"I had to come down here in person to see just who the frak this young hotshot is that successfully traversed an asteroid field on full battle thrusters with a missile ready to crawl up his ass." said Jonnason as he appraised the young viper pilot before him. Matt snapped out a stiff salute which was promptly returned. "Lieutenant, how in the name of the Lords of Kobol do you fly with balls that big?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, sir?" replied the young pilot in a thick Aerilonian brogue. The CAG who stood close behind the commander blanched in horror at the young viper pilot's reply. James Jonnason blinked twice then broke out in an unexpected guffaw that filled the hanger deck. A visibly relieved CAG joined in the laughter, as did his squadron leader; Captain Croft. There was no response from the commander, who merely nodded to Lensherr and walked off.

After completing his post flight check, and the required after-action report of the training incident, Matt made his way to the pilot's rec room to wind down where upon his arrival he was greeted with raucous cheers. Greenbean was the first to speak as he clasped Matt's hand. "Unfrakking believable! Nobody has ever _attempted_ to shake a missile in an asteroid field, much less do it at top speed." A tall mug of ale was thrust into Matt's hand as he was led over to a center table.

"Let's hope you're that calm, and that good when a Cylon missile is on your ass, nugget!" said Captain Croft raising his mug in salute.

"Well sir, if the tin-plated bastards crawl out of whatever rock they've been hiding under for the last 34 years I'll do my best to repeat that performance." boasted Matt. The revelry lasted well into the night, and Matt had finally felt the sense of absolute belonging with his new ship mates. The warships of Battlestar group 39 continued their long patrol, intercepting the occasional pirate, assisting a disabled passenger liner bound for _Caprica_, and continuously drilling their viper squadrons. The monotonous routine would soon change.

**Combat Information Center – Battlestar _Triton_**

"Commander, we're picking up a DRADIS contact in alpha quadrant. It is not broadcasting an IFF." reported the tactical officer.

"Only one DRADIS contact, lieutenant?" queried Jonnason from his post at the command and control station, unofficially known as the plotting table. The command and control station was the primary station within CIC used by the Commanding and Executive Officers aboard a Colonial battlestar. The center comprises a large communications and a roughly hexagonal "information management" table, with a retractable information display tower bearing a number of LCD screens suspended above it. There are no chairs; the command staff are always standing. 1

"Sir, we're too far off for a clean scan, the unknown contact's proximity to the Hala Nebula is hindering our efforts to get an exact number of contacts." replied the lieutenant. _Triton's_ executive officer leaned in close to Jonnason, his voice barely a whisper.

"Hell, even the pirates broadcast an active IFF transponder, even if it's a fraudulent one. Pretty damned peculiar, especially after all that hush-hush felgercarb with Bill Adama aboard the _Valkyrie_." said the XO quietly." Jonnason shot his XO a look that clearly conveyed that they were opening a dialogue best left for a more private setting.

"Let's not get into that here, the admiralty is keeping that subject in the dark, and even with my best sources I've been able to only get bits and pieces that add up to nothing more than a hasty unexplained transfer for Bill and Saul to the _Galactica_ of all ships." Looking over to the tactical station he spoke louder. "Action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship, vector the CAP to intercept and identify, and launch the alert vipers." Green squadron held alert duty for this particular day, and soon were aloft to back up the Combat Air Patrol that had already been directed to intercept and identify the unidentified DRADIS contact.

"Commander, any instructions for the battle group?" asked the communications officer.

"Inform the commanders to stand by, but be prepared to launch vipers if need be. Let's see what the hell is out there." said Jonnason looking up at the DRADIS console suspended from the ceiling above him.

Six Colonial vipers from the Battlestar _Triton_ flew in tight formation towards the gas cloud known as the Hala Nebula as they tried to catch up with the two vipers previously assigned to the CAP. At this range, their on board DRADIS revealed several more contacts. The senior pilot on CAP soon signaled Triton. _"Triton, Riptide...four contacts confirmed, one freighter and three Mk. I vipers flying escort, over."_

"Riptide, from _Triton_ actual you are directed to order those ships to halt and be boarded." The four unidentified contacts soon were picking up Colonial vipers heading their way. The two closest vipers were now signaling them to stop and prepare to be boarded. They immediately altered course. They were now moving towards the nebula at high speed. The vipers gave chase.

Upon entering the nebula the DRADIS soon became useless, visibility was abominable. Each pilot maintained their speed and position, the marker lights on the dorsal and wingtips the only guide of how close they were to each other. It soon became apparent that these were just another band of smugglers or even pirates. With the Cylon war long over, the Colonial fleet found itself playing the part of civilian law enforcement in space. The craft they were following consisted of one transport ship that was presumably smuggling some kind of illegal drugs or perhaps heavy weaponry, and three smaller fighter craft, most likely old Mk I vipers long ago sold for scrap. Unbeknown to the viper pilots chasing them they had been refitted with more powerful engines, and 20 mm cannons to replace the two military issued MEC-A6 30mm Thraxon forward-firing kinetic energy weapons that the military removed before selling the ship to civilian agencies flying protection.

"Green team this is Green leader, keep you eyes sharp and maintain your intervals. These pirates have grown far too accustomed to not being pursued through the Hala Nebula by the long arm of the law. It's past time we showed these scumbags who controls this sector." said Hawkeye over the comline.

The Hala Nebula lay at the farthest reach of the Colonial star sector. The nearest colony was _Tauron_, already a thorn in the side to the Admiralty. Law enforcement on Tauron generally ignored the smuggling profession in their sector, rumor was that they were receiving generous "tribute" from the pirates and left them unmolested providing they did not draw too much attention from the Colonial fleets that patrolled.

"They're going through the nebula and will exit into the old asteroid field, if we don't intercept them before that we're going to have a tough time apprehending them. They know that asteroid field much better than we do, and know every hiding spot." Said Green Leader.

Hephaestus was surprisingly calm in his cockpit, he felt oddly at ease flying through this soup, as if he knew beyond doubt that he would emerge completely unscathed. It was not too long ago when he was flying for his life through an asteroid field at full speed trying to shake an air-to-sir missile that had locked onto his viper during a training session. He visually scanned the immediate area around him, identifying each member of his squadron. This was precision flying, he was amongst the best viper pilots in the battlegroup, and was in his glory. He desperately wanted to apprehend these guys, for too long the pirates in the Tauron system had run unchallenged. The final straw was the recent looting of a small Colonial weapons reserve station on a moon thought to be a closely guarded secret. It was suspected that the pirates had someone on the inside of the military feeding them sensitive information on weapons caches, and fleet patrol routes. The evidence was clear; they had to have someone on the inside. These lawbreakers always seemed to be forewarned of Colonial presence, and were always one-step ahead in evading capture. Unknown to any of the viper pilots, these ships were directly responsible for the raid on the weapons reserve station.

The clouds were thinning, and in the distance, Lensherr could make out the telltale afterburners of a tri-engine star fighter. He strained to get a count, only two were seen. "Green Leader-Green five…Tally two bandits on my ten o'clock position. Distance 2.7."

"Hephaestus-Green Leader…wilco on the bandits, let's go get em!" The vipers were almost completely free of the nebula and were now streaking through empty space. They were two minutes away from the asteroid field, and one minute away from the fleeing pirates. "I'm picking up the other two on Dradis now; they've got a good head start on us."

Without warning and to the surprise of everyone the two rear pirate vipers flipped end over end and were now heading for the Colonial vipers in pursuit. They were obviously attempting to buy time for their transport ship and cargo to reach the protection of the asteroid field. The Mk I vipers were archaic, and absolutely no match for the far-superior Mk. V that were almost on top of them. Unknown to the pilots of Green squadron, these Mk I's had been fitted with the best Voram engines that smuggler cubits could buy. The first viper let loose with a salvo that struck Hephaestus' wing man in the port intake, the explosion ripped the wing completely off.

_"Holy frak, I'm hit…I'm hit."_ Yelled Green three. "Krypter Krypter Krypter…Green three declaring an emergency." The damaged viper went into a spin and struck Green six in the process causing minimal damage to the port wing cannon. Lensherr flipped the safety off his firing trigger and let loose a short burst towards the oncoming rogue viper. The cannon fire stitched its way across the high engine. Without correcting course, he passed the damaged viper, his starboard wing scraping against the fuselage.

"Green leader-Hephaestus…request permission to ignore second viper and pursue cargo ship."

"Hephaestus-Green leader…good shot kid, you and Green four are instructed to give pursuit, we'll handle the second rogue viper." Ordered the squadron leader. Lensherr and his wing man had accelerated and had already passed the second viper before either could acquire a firing lock and fire on the other. They kicked in their turbos and made their way after the cargo ship and its lone viper protector. They were almost within the asteroid field. The lone viper had picked up his pursuers on his DRADIS and flipped over to face them. These two Colonial vipers stood between him and an incredible payday, and he was not about to let that happen. He let loose short bursts of fire. Lensherr himself was not one to waste ammunition on prolonged fire, he was a firm believer in short accurate bursts, apparently so was this pirate. The pirate corrected for drift and the incoming viper's momentum after each shot burst.

Green four was a seasoned pilot with at least six years experience in the Mk V. That experience ended when cannon fire from the rogue viper struck the canopy head on, obliterating the reinforced polycarbonate material striking the pilot in the head and chest. Green four was killed instantly. It was now only Lensherr and the pirate. His pulse quickened, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled. This obsolete viper was clearly being flown by a crack pilot, and Lensherr was not about to let his guard down. He was approaching the Mk I on full battle thrusters, at the first flash of the pirate's cannons Lensherr pushed the control stick hard forward bringing his viper into a dive. The pirate flew by him and Lensherr went into a reverse loop, righting himself on the pirate's six. He let loose a controlled blast striking the port and high engine. The viper was now drifting, and with only one engine, he was not going to be going very far, Lensherr immediately reversed course and went for the cargo ship.

The smuggler's ship was slightly bigger than a Colonial Raptor, and Lensherr doubted it possessed an FTL drive otherwise he would have already used it. His eyes focused on the DRADIS screen. "There you are!" Lensherr poured on the speed, the smuggler was just entering the asteroid field, but it was too late, the young Colonial officer from the Triton had 'mark one eyeballs' on him. There was no way he would lose him. Lensherr switched on his transmitter to Unicom, and spoke.

"Attention civilian transport ship, this is Colonial Viper 271 from the Battlestar _Triton_…you are ordered to stop immediately, please respond!" ordered Lensherr. The transport ship picked up speed and started to take evasive action. Lensherr just frowned. _"frakking idiots!"_

Lensherr glided through the asteroid belt easily, his much smaller ship was able to avoid the larger rock fragments. The smuggler was forced to chop his speed in order to maneuver safely around the asteroids. Lensherr pulled up closer and realized he would have to disable the transport's engines without destroying the ship. This would not be as easy as it was with the rogue viper out in clear space running on a straight flight path. The asteroid field forced the transport ship's pilot to continually roll and bank his ship to avoid a collision.

He had one chance, and with a quick squeeze of the trigger, he took it. The cannon fire blew out the port engine. The smuggler would have to exit the asteroid field or face certain death attempting to pilot a large craft on one engine in a dangerous asteroid field. The smuggler chose self-preservation and started to exit the field, once clear of it he cut his engines and surrendered. The remaining members of Green squadron arrived on station after destroying one viper and further disabling the second one that was already sidelined with engine damage. Two Raptors towed the transport ship and rogue viper back to _Triton_. The smugglers were placed under arrest, and transferred to civilian authorities. Their cargo was stolen munitions from the Colonial Weapons reserve station, and a variety of illegal drugs. Green four's death was mourned, and Battlestar group 39 continued their long patrol.

**Battlestar Triton – Commanding Officer's private quarters**

Two weeks after the altercation with the pirates, Commander Jonnason was meeting with his CAG to discuss Matthew Lensherr. Ever since arriving on Triton the young Aerilonian had excelled on all fronts, he was well liked, his abilities as a pilot admired, and it was obvious to all that this was a young man who was going places in Colonial Fleet.

Major Corbo sat with a snifter of Caprican brandy in his hand, Matthew Lensherr's personnel file opened up on his lap. He was impressed with the young Aerilonian, and knew he would someday lead his own viper squadron. He finally spoke. "I concur, commander...he's a natural in the cockpit. I wouldn't put him in the same league as Starbuck though. Where she's an incredibly gifted pilot, she's also incredibly reckless."

"Kara Thrace's ability in a viper is surpassed only by a handful of active viper pilots, most of them flight instructors. Young Hephaestus here," said Jonnason motioning to the personnel file, "is on track to be just as good as she is...in time."

"His profile indicates a a deliberate approach, methodical to the extreme. When you combine that with his ability to remain calm under intense pressure you have an incredible combination. My recommendation is that he get _bumped up_."

"Pretty short time from junior lieutenant to full lieutenant, Pete." observed Jonnason, though not disputing it.

"I agree, but nonetheless I stand by the recommendation...he _is_ ready." replied the CAG.

"So be it, Major. Matthew Lensherr is to be promoted to full lieutenant effective immediately.

1Bsgwiki


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18.

The years felt as if they passed under the power of full battle thrusters of a Colonial viper. Matthew Lensherr's time aboard the _Triton _was by far the most exciting experience in his life. He had visited just about every one of the twelve worlds that made up the Twelve Colonies of _Kobol_. Life was good, he was a hotshot viper pilot assigned to a top notch battlestar. This day he was descending the lower atmosphere of _Caprica_ in a shuttle from Triton. He was on shore leave for the next forty eight hours and planned to make the most of it.

Arriving at Caprica Transfer Station, a transfer point for the Colonial Fleet on _Caprica, _Matt disembarked the shuttle with a small leather overnight bag slung over his shoulder. His first destination was _Caprica beach, _a very popular relaxation destination not only for military personnel on shore leave, but civilians as well. He followed the directions to the monorail substation just outside the transfer station and boarded the correct car which would make the two hour trip. By late morning, Matt was already at his desired destination, sporting trendy _Caprican_-made wrap around sunglasses and knee-length emerald green bathing suit that complimented his physique. An intense workout regiment kept Matt very fit, he had become close friends with several marines assigned to _Triton_, and he soon rounded off their group in their daily sessions in _Triton's_ gym. He had learned several forms of martial arts and marine close combat techniques that made him a formidable fighter, though nowhere near as proficient as them men who taught him the techniques.

He walked up to the teak lounge chair and placed his belongings in the storage platform beneath it. A battered umbrella attached to the back of the chair remained closed purposely. Matt was here to get a tan, something uncommon amongst humans that traveled within the confines of space ships for any great period of time. After settling in, he lifted a small red flag attached to the headset. Within minutes a cocktail waitress appeared at his side.

"What can I get for ya, handsome?" asked the young waitress in an obnoxiously nasal Libran accent.

"A pint of Caprican ale will do, and a menu." replied Matt. The waitress left to get his drink and Matt stretched out on the lounge chair, soaking up the hot sun. It felt like ages since he last laid out under the sun. One of his favorite pastimes as a youth on Aerilon was to go down to the pond on his father's property. He would lay out on the large rocks along the sides of the pond until he fell asleep, usually waking up with quite the sunburn.

It was a perfect day, the sun was bright and temperature hot and dry with an ever so slight breeze off the ocean. The pints of ale went down smooth, perhaps too smooth as he realized he was now on his fifth pint. He wanted to soak up every minute of his shore leave, in three days the group would be moving on from _Caprica_ and heading towards the outer regions of the colonies for an unknown amount of months. Greenbean was off visiting relatives in Oasis, and his marine buddies were off doing gods know what. Matt was on his own and didn't mind. The waves were spectacular, crashing down on the white sands. He pulled himself up to go jump in to cool off when the most incredible sight caught his attention. Coming out of the waves, a strikingly beautiful woman at almost six feet with blond hair commanded the attention of every male in her vicinity. She wore a white two-piece bathing suit that only accented the length of her legs. She would be walking right by him, within a few feet. It wasn't until she was less than ten feet away when Matt noticed her eyes. She had the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen, almost unnatural. They must be contact lenses, thought Matt to himself. Nobody has eyes that perfect. As she got closer, she turned towards Matt and smiled.

"Good afternoon!" said Matt. The blond slowed her pace and returned the greeting. She was almost angelic, six feet maybe 133 pounds at the most, and eyes that could melt the fiercest heart.

"Good afternoon yourself lad." replied the beauty. Her emerald eyes lowered, focusing on the military ID tags that hung around Matt's neck. "A soldier?" she purred as she put her left hand onto her hip.

"No, Colonial fleet...viper pilot to be exact." replied Matt standing up. "Matt Lensherr!" he said holding out his hand. The beauty took his hand and shook it gently.

"Pleasure to meet you Matt Lensherr...viper pilot to be exact." She ran her eyes discreetly up and down Matt's body and smiled. She released his hand and started to walk away.

"Wait..." called out Matt, "I didn't get you name."

The woman stopped and turned her head over her shoulder. "No...you didn't." she said smiling. She then resumed walking and disappeared along the boardwalk. Matt stood there shaking his head. She was absolutely stunning, with a body that could grace the cover of any modeling magazine. He spent another few hours at the beach, mostly thinking about the hot babe in the white bathing suit, after toweling off he gathered his things and went to the pavilion's locker room to change. He needed something decent to eat, the beach food was too greasy. After showering and changing into a pair of jeans and a crisp button down shirt, Matt walked over to the strip outside the beach. Along the strip one could find all sorts of entertainment; taverns, socialators, triad games, fine and not-so fine dining and small stores where you could buy everything from _Caprica Buccaneers_ clothing to _Caprican Imperial_ cigars. Matt made his way to one of the fine dining establishments. Battlestar mess halls were actually fairly decent, while the food wasn't gourmet, it was far from gruel. One of Matt's shore leave priorities was to have one excellent meal before returning to the _Triton_. He stopped at the entrance to the _Golden_ _Fleece_, peering through the window he determined he was properly attired and decided to enter.

Matt took a seat at the long bar in the rear of the building, it was a white marble bar with ancient depictions of the gods chiseled on it. The top of the bar was a highly polished black marble, and the bar stools were made of sturdy wood, with comfortable leather padding. The barmaid was attired all in black, her eye makeup resembled that of the ancient Kobolian priestesses. She promptly walked over to Matt the moment he sat down. "Welcome to the Golden Fleece, sir...may I take your order?"

"A glass of ambrosia, please."

"Caprican vineyards, Scorpion Marsh Genuine, Stanford, Proteus?" asked the barmaid. There were various ambrosia distillers, and some were quite expensive.

"A glass of Scorpion Marsh Genuine, please." said Matt choosing the most expensive brand.

"The 'viper pilot to be exact' knows his ambrosia it would seem." came a sultry voice from behind. Matt turned in his seat to come face to face with the beauty from the beach. "Very expensive too, you must be a ship commander." The woman had traded the skimpy white bathing suit for a creme-colored cocktail dress with plunging neckline. A platinum necklace containing a tastefully small amulet encrusted with with small emerald stones matched her earrings perfectly. She was absolutely gorgeous, and sucked all of the attention from the crowded restaurant.

"Hardly," replied Matt. "A mere lieutenant would be accurate. Would you care to join me?" said Matt standing while gesturing to the seat next to him. The young woman smiled and took the seat next to Matt. "May I interest you in a glass of Scorpion Marsh Genuine?"

"Yes you may lieutenant." replied the woman with a smile.

"Please, call me Matt." He waited for her to introduce herself, and when no introduction was made he realized he would have to play the game. Two tall crystal glasses of the green ambrosia were promptly delivered, and had Matt not won big at the triad game two nights earlier he doubted he would have ordered the top shelf ambrosia for himself, much less two glasses of it. He smiled at the the thought of Greenbean and Lynx taking public transport to their destination on what was now a scaled back shore leave for them financially. Like Greenbean was fond of saying..."If you can't run with the daggits stay on the porch." Both had poor hands, but felt strongly that their bluffs wouldn't be called on. Matt won the hand with a "prince high red," much to the disbelief of the two men he cleaned out. Matt made a mental note to buy them something from one of the fumarello stores as a consolation.

"I love coming to this restaurant," began the stranger. "it's one of the oldest restaurants on Caprica, the decor is an obvious nod to the gods. You won't find better food or drink anywhere in the colonies."

"Golden Fleece? I would imagine so. Amazing how many people pledge their devotion to unseen gods." replied Matt.

"You're not a believer in the gods, or is it that you believe in the one true God?" she asked, carefully studying his facial expression for any indication of an answer.

"One true God? No, I don't subscribe to the _Soldiers of the One_ theory, or any religious theory for that matter I suppose."

"Blasphemous response," teased the radiant young woman. "aren't you afraid of being struck down by a bolt from the blue?" 

Matt laughed and looked up towards the ceiling as if he was giving the question serious thought. "Hard to be afraid of something being thrown from someone you don't believe exists in the first place, don't ya think?" The woman next to him narrowed her gaze and merely smiled. "I was raised in a family that had little time to go to temple to worship unseen gods. My parents raised their children to be hard working, courteous, honest and above all else...kind."

"You're from Aerilon? Farmer I would gather." Matt knew that he had an Aerilonian accent, his thick brogue had lessened over his years with Colonial fleet, but it was still there.

"Good observation, my parents owned a large dairy farm along the Euclid river. They sold beef and dairy products throughout the colonies." The woman was intensely beautiful, Matt couldn't keep from staring deep into those beguiling green eyes. "You have an accent yourself, barely there, but there nonetheless." She merely smiled and took another sip of ambrosia. He was going to have to really work hard for this one he thought. She didn't appear to to be the typical lounge socialator, or cubit-digger though, their conversation revealed an educated, well-spoken young woman full of mystery. "Care to join me for dinner?"

"I would love to." Matt paid the bar tab and a hostess was soon seating them at a corner table. The heavy crystal glasses were filled with ice cold water, and the small candle was lit, radiating light through the intricate cut crystal glass it sat in. The light only magnified the beauty of her eyes. The conversation lasted over an hour before they eventually ordered dinner. Matt had a gift for reading people, but with the blond stranger his gift was failing him. He did however, surmise that the woman before him was a deeply religious person, though what she believed in remained as mysterious as her name. She was very inquisitive, asking many question of a professional and personal nature, and she displayed an incredible memory as she would return to previous subjects to expand on a question, or ask for clarification of Matt's answer. Dinner had ended, and after another few rounds of ambrosia, both left the restaurant on uneasy legs, legally intoxicated. Upon finding out that Matt was staying at a local lodging of questionable quality, the young woman invited Matt back to her penthouse for a nightcap.

The penthouse was in a very nice section of Caprica city, the furnishings were very modern, and the walls displayed fine artworks and awards that he had not read. He was too focused on the mysterious woman before him who had just opened up her own bottle of ambrosia. She poured the green liquid into blood-red heavy goblets, and handed one to Matt. They walked out onto the balcony overlooking the city, Matt was awed by the spectacular nighttime view of the capital city on the planet often thought of as the crown jewel of the twelve worlds. A slight breeze blew the blond hair across her face, stepping in close, Matt used his fingers to gently pull back the strands of hair to reveal her face. She leaned in close and softly kissed him on the lips. It was an intoxicating kiss, and Matt could smell her perfume mingled in with the ambrosia for an overwhelmingly pleasant combination. Matt pulled her close, her breasts gently pressed against him.

"I really would like to know your name." said Matt. She smiled, and ran her long fingers down the side of his face, tracing a line from the back of his ear down his neck causing an involuntary shudder in Matt. She smiled and kissed him again. After what seemed to be minutes engaged in a passionate kiss, she whispered in his ear.

"_My name is D'Anna."_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19.

Sunlight was slipping through curtains that were not fully closed, he stretched his aching body on the soft satin sheets as he opened one eye slowly. The chronometer on the nightstand displayed ten forty in the morning. He rolled his head on the soft pillow and was face to face with the woman named D'Anna. Still asleep she looked just as angelic as when awake. Her breathing was soft, and her bare breasts slowly heaved. He closed his eyes in an effort to try and minimize the hangover he was feeling. Several empty bottles of top shelf ambrosia were empty in an antique silver ice bucket on the table at the foot of the bed. By the time he opened his eyes again, D'Anna's own open eyes were looking right back at him.

"I didn't mean to wake you." whispered Matt.

"Oh, were you planning to quietly roll out of my bed and leave, Hephaestus?" purred D'Anna.

"No...of course not, wait...how did you know my call sign?" asked Matt. He didn't recall discussing the military during the evening, but then again, three empty bottles of ambrosia adds up to one frakload of truth serum.

She ran her fingertips across his pair chest and smiled. "Silly boy, don't you recall anything of last night?" asked D'Anna in mock disappointment. Apparently some things slipped his mind during the night. He started to recall dinner, then going back to the luxurious penthouse overlooking Caprica city. Expensive artwork and framed awards for her work...journalism, that's what they were for, thought Matt.

"Of course I recall last night, how could I not?" smiled Matt. The night's conversation turned into passionate sex that started out on the balcony, moved to the living room where a roaring fireplace now was replaced by a smoldering one, and finally into her bedroom where high ceilings with skylights that gave the room's inhabitant an incredible view of the stars were on display. More artwork adorned the walls, very few looked familiar to him, then again, Matt was no art expert. One painting depicted a beautiful shackled slave girl, naked at the feet of Zeus himself. In one hand he held the long golden chain attached to her collar, in the other hand was one of Zeus' lightning bolts. It struck Matt that the slave girl depicted in the painting strongly resembled D'Anna. "Is that a Monclair?" asked Matt trying to look as if he had a clue about artwork.

"D'Anna chuckled. "No, but the styles of the artist are similar."

"What's the statement you're trying to make?" asked Matt as he kissed her neck. "Chafing at the bonds of your master?"

"Something like that." cooed D'Anna who proceeded to run her tongue down Matt's abdomen to just beneath the silk sheets, promptly putting Matt's attention elsewhere. The next five or six hours were spent in the king-sized bed, and without doubt...this by far has been the best shore leave to date in Matt's career with the fleet. The two had finally dragged themselves from bed and sat out on the balcony, for a late afternoon lunch of Tellan eggs and wine.

"So whats this big story you're working on?" asked Matt as he took another sip of wine.

"Ah, let me tell ye lad. I've got the goods on a member of the Delphi city council who shall remain nameless, I'm sure you'll understand why. This horny little frakker has a thing for runaway Gemonese girls of the young persuasion. He has a team of associates round em up as they come off the transports at the space dome, gives em some food, a nice bath and clothes and then a room at a warehouse in the lower ward that's off the beaten path. Looks like an old warehouse that had once housed an assembly line for energizers, but on the inside there is a wing that is state of the art, and well concealed. I've got someone on the inside, she was able to install miniature cameras in various rooms. Our councilman is about to become very famous." said D'Anna with a wink.

"If this guy is abusing young girls why haven't you reported him to law enforcement?"

"I'm in the news business, Matthew. This penthouse and everything within it is paid for by these juicy exposes, you just can't rush these things."

"Caprican journalism?"

"I'm hardly a journalist."

"I've heard of your employer, it has a reputation more of the tabloid nature than legitimate news service." teased Matt.

"Be very careful Hephaestus, a sharp tongue like that won't get you invited back into my bed the next time you're on _Caprica_." flirted D'Anna as she filled up his glass.

"I'm not sure how soon I'll get back here, my battle group is scheduled to depart tomorrow night." said Matt, disappointment in his voice.

"Battle group? What in the name of the gods are you people doing battle with? The Cylons disappeared decades ago, and the pirates surely don't command enough firepower to worry the mighty Colonial Fleet." said D'Anna clearly trying to bait Matt. "Maybe I should focus on Colonial fleet for my next expose, _Battlestar Triton's fleecing of Colonial tax dollars!"_

"You wouldn't dare!" laughed Matt.

"If that's what it took to get you back in my bed faster, then I'll do it." said D'Anna with mock innocence.

"Maybe my forced expulsion from the fleet thanks to you will allow me the time to finally explore our galaxy and all of her hidden treasures." laughed Matt.

"_Space exploration?" _D'Anna said with what almost looked like a sneer on her lips._ "_Humanity is less than a microbe of dust in the great scheme of the creator." said D'Anna flatly. "I doubt we would even be able to grasp the slightest beginning of what the universe has to offer." Matt found her reply very curious, and his reaction was swift.

"The creator?" asked Matt. "So you _are_ a believer in a monotheistic religion?"

"I believe in _anything_ that puts art on my walls and ambrosia in my cupboards my handsome young viper pilot." whispered D'Anna as she lowered herself onto Matt's lap, rocking back and forth ever so slowly. Matt finally found that he had lost all interest in talking about religion. The two spent the rest of the day walking through Caprica city, D'Anna spoke at length of various scandals she had uncovered over the years. She had personally been responsible for causing two high profile quorum members to resign in disgrace, and one expose resulted in the suicide of a very influential banking executive. However, the one thing Matt wanted to know more about was the one subject she didn't mention..._herself._

**Caprica Transfer Station – Main Gate**

D'Anna would see Matt off on his return to his Battlestar, she was dressed in a soft, knee-length white leather coat tied tightly at the waist. Dark sunglasses concealed her eyes, as the two walked arm in arm towards the security gate. Matt was wearing his green fatigues as were the rules for members of the military when traveling on military shuttles. This was an incredible shore leave, he had met, and bedded an incredibly beautiful and captivating woman that made him feel like he was walking on a very pleasant electrical current. Deep down, Matt knew this wasn't just a one-time shore leave encounter with a socialator. D'Anna was different, highly intelligent with a rapier wit. He wondered how often she plied her feminine charms to get the big story. She wasn't a professional journalist, she worked for an entity that specialized in tabloid journalism. Her employer had a long and unsavory history of outing powerful people for infidelity, substance abuse and other seedy traits. D'Anna Biers was their star investigative reporter.

"How long will you be out there for?" asked D'Anna.

"Hard to tell," Matt began. "Commander Jonnason isn't in the habit of discussing group deployment schedules with his viper jocks. I may not get back to _Caprica_ for another six months at the earliest." This produced a noticeable frown on D'Anna's face, as sorry as she may have been to hear that, Matt felt far worse to say it. D'Anna stopped abruptly and spun Matt towards her. Her green eyes sparkled as Matt could swear he saw the beginning stages of tears welling up in her eyes.

"It looks like we'll have to keep in contact through wireless and network messages." She leaned in close and kissed him, her fingers running through his thick hair. "Whenever possible, let me know where you are, you never know...I may just be in the area." said D'Anna with a wink.

"I'll do what I can, but know that the disclosure of fleet locations is absolutely forbidden. We're only allowed to notify friends or family when we're twenty four hours from arriving on station." explained Matt.

"How dreadfully inconvenient! I may just have to do a story on Colonial Fleet." joked D'Anna. The two embraced as military personnel walked past them through the gates. "I'm going to miss you Matthew Lensherr, you had better not forget me."

"Perish the thought, let the twelve worlds go up in flames before that ever happened." D'Anna arched an eyebrow and smiled. Stay safe Hephaestus, I want to see you again." With that, she was gone leaving Matt standing alone at the gates.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20.

**Pilot's Quarters – Battlestar _Triton_**

Greenbean sat with his legs propped up on the corner of Matt's bunk, with arms crossed the look on his face revealed skepticism. _"D'Anna Biers you say?" _A fewchuckles could be heard from the other occupants of the room as Matt nodded in the affirmative. "Heph...D'Anna Biers is the proverbial wolf is sheep's clothing, while I admit that she's pretty frakking hot, she's also left a trail of broken families and careers in her wake. That gossip mill she works for has been sued for slander more times than Lynx over their has wanked off to the latest issue of _Big Constellations_." said Greenbean gesturing to the top bunk opposite the room where fellow Green squadron member Lynx was now sitting.

"_Hey...that's called self-healing!" _ said the pilot defensively, has he held up the latest copy of said magazine sporting a very large breasted red head on the cover.

"I kid you not Bean, I spent the better part of my entire shore leave with her. She's frakking one in a million, brains, humor and beauty!" replied Matt using his own foot to push Greenbean's boots off of his pillow. "The best part is that I have you and Lynx to thank for it," said Matt as he pulled two medium-sized rectangular boxes from his leather shoulder bag. He threw a box to Greenbean and Lynx. "you guys basically fronted me the cubits to afford to even walk into the Golden Fleece." he teased referring to their loss at the Triad table.

"So did she put out, or what?" asked Lynx as he ripped the wrapper off the box. "_Caprican Imperials?_ Excellent choice, Heph. I take back all of those daggit-frakking comments I made about you."

"When was that?"

"From the moment you cleaned us out in that Triad game, to the moment you tossed us these cigars." interjected Greenbean. Matt laughed and started to unpack his bag of its contents. "So are you gonna answer Lynx's question or not?"

"_Not!" _replied Matt with grin.

"I hope you caught something from her!" groused Greenbean as he lit up one of the cigars.

**Battlestar Group 39 – One week out of _Virgon_**

Battlestar Group 39 at this time was patrolling the furthest reaches of Colonial rule. At cruising speed they were less than a week out from the planet _Virgon, _one of the wealthier colonies. On this day, Matthew Lensherr was assigned to the Combat Air Patrol, or CAP. After four hours, his lower back was starting to tighten up, and boredom had long set in. The peace and quiet did not last.

"Hephaestus, _Triton_." came the communications officer over Matt's comline.

"_Triton_ this is Hephaestus, go ahead."

"Hephaestus, we're picking up a DRADIS contact bearing 447 carom 261, unable to establish an identification. You are directed to intercept and identify immediately...over."

"_Triton_, Hephaestus receives intercept and identify instructions, contact bearing 447 Carom 261...over." switching over to the secondary comline used exclusively between his wing man Greenbean Matt squeezed the transmit button on his navi-hilt. "You Bean, let's kick in the burn and get some mark one eyeballs on this contact."

"Lead the way dairy farmer!" quipped Greenbean as he altered his course to the new set of coordinates. The two Colonial vipers increased their speed to intercept the unidentified contact. The battle group had remained busy interdicting pirates throughout their patrol, and this new contact was most like more of the same. Within ten minutes the patrol was within visual range of a mid-sized bulky shuttle craft of an unknown configuration. Matt set his transmitter to universal setting, or uni-com

"Attention unidentified shuttle craft, this is Colonial viper 271 of the Battlestar _Triton_, chop your speed and identify yourself, over." A lengthy silence was soon interrupted by a smooth voice.

"Colonial vipers, this is shuttle Omega 16792 of the mining ship _Majahual _on a shakedown cruise."

"Omega 16792, be advised you are currently not broadcasting an IFF transmitter, identify yourself and your destination." ordered Matt as he pulled up next to the shuttle. Using maneuvering thrusters he kept his cockpit parallel with the cockpit window of the shuttle. He could see a man of his late thirties, perhaps early forties with close-cropped dirty blond hair. The shuttle pilot looked directly at Matt and smiled which oddly enough made Matt feel like an icy cold grip had grasped his spine.

"Colonial viper 271, as I stated previously, my ship is on a shakedown cruise from the _Majahual_ en route to _Virgon. _The _Ithica Mining Group_ can verify that the shuttle is their property." There was a slight pause before the pilot spoke again. "As to who I am...feel free to call me _Leoben_."

"Omega 16792 you are instructed to maintain present course and speed until instructed to do otherwise." ordered Matt. "Regardless of this being a new shuttle craft, and this being her shakedown cruise, you still are required by law to broadcast a Colonial IFF." Matt had relayed the information back to _Triton_ where the duty officer verified the information through the computers that were capable of calling up civilian and law enforcement information. While Matt waited for further information he would occasionally glance over at the cockpit of the shuttle, where he would always find a pair of gray eyes above an unsettling smile staring back at him. There was something about this shuttle pilot that made Matt feel extremely uneasy, the hair on his neck bristled every time they locked eyes.

"Hephaestus, _Triton_...the shuttle's story checks out, and its owner will be receiving a fine for the lack of a Colonial transponder. The flight plan had been filed, and there is no further reason to detain...over."

"Message received _Triton_, I'll be sending this guy on his way." Matt had switched back to the uni-com and keyed the transmitter. "Omega 16792, your story checks out and I've been instructed to let you go on your way. Your employer will be contacted regarding the transponder violation...over."

"Why thank you very much Colonial 271," said Leoben in a sing-song manner. Matt could see the bright white teeth behind the smile as he watched the pilot bring his hand up in the form of a salute. _"I'll be seeing your around!" _That last statement struck Matt in a very disconcerting way and the shuttle soon pulled away from him and Greenbean.

"Frakking guy is one creepy dude, eh Heph?" asked Greenbean over their private frequency.

"No kidding, I get the distinct feeling that this guy had absolutely no fear of being pulled over by Colonial vipers, or anyone else for that matter. Bad news to be sure." The two vipers returned to their CAP duties around the battle group, the remainder of the patrol uneventful.

**Battlestar Triton – Combat Information Center – One year later**

Commander Jonnason walked briskly into the CIC, the Marine guard at the entrance to the secure nerve center of the warship came to attention and snapped out a stiff salute. Returning the salute, the commander walked through the sliding doors and walked over to the command and control station. A female ensign soon appeared with a large ceramic mug with the Triton's insignia etched on the side. Black coffee was filled to the rim, and Jonnason accepted it with thanks. He took a sip of the coffee and was not surprised to find his preferred blend of _Aerilonian strong brew. _It was customary practice for any warship visiting any of the colonies to procure specialized items, items not normally provided for by Colonial Fleet. Aerilon was well known for it's beef, dairy and coffee, and on Triton's last stop at the farming colony, Commander Jonnason made sure a large supply of coffee was purchased through his own funds. Coffee from the mess hall was not of exceptional quality. In Colonial fleet, your provisions were usually bought from the lowest bidder, and in some cases it showed.

After relieving the junior officer of the deck, known as the JOOD, Jonnason scanned through the large clipboard of com traffic from Picon fleet headquarters, some interesting items caused him to slow down and thoroughly read through them. It looks like the battle group would be making a stop on _Caprica_ next month for some routine matters. He thoroughly enjoyed any opportunity to go to _Caprica_, the jewel of the twelve worlds. The lush blue green planet was viewed by some to be the very center of Colonial culture and achievement. Many of the viper production facilities were housed there, and after major flaws in the viper Mk. VI, a new viper model had been put into production, the Mk. VII. This was the most advance fighter in the Colonial arsenal. Amazing leaps in technology credited in part to Doctor Gaius Baltar and several aeronautical engineers had led to the development of the Mk. VII, and many were already in service. His guess was that he would be taking on replacements for the several Mk. V's and Mk. VI's that he still had in service on board.

The executive officer finally arrived and stood to the commander's left, also scanning through the com chatter from the night watch. The two men, much like Saul Tigh and William Adama, had also risen through the ranks of the Colonial military simultaneously, with Jonnason usually one step ahead. The two worked well together, and the mutual respect each had for the other was evident. Jonnason was first to speak. "Good morning XO, looks to be an interesting month ahead of us."

"_Caprica_ I see, eh? There happens to be a fairly decent strip joint in the Cronus sector if you're up to it." Jonnason looked up and rolled his eyes.

"We're both too old to be frequenting those joints, Ryan." replied Jonnason.

"Feel free to speak for yourself, sir. I'm still young enough to enjoy the ladies." replied the executive officer with a wink. "On a serious note, would I be correct in assuming that we're going to finally be rid of those frakking Mk. VI's cluttering up the hangar bay? By the gods...that model had been plagued by everything under the sun since they day they came off the production line."

"Six dead pilots resulting." added Jonnason solemnly. "Well the Mk. VII apparently has corrected those deficiencies, they're incredibly agile, and with the new Command Navigation Program, it should be a long time before they need to be replaced."

"Those gods damned eggheads over in Picon Research surely have their next wonder project drafted, and ready to make the Mk. VII obsolete." grumbled the XO.

"No doubt, but trust me...I'll wager a year's salary that the Mk. VII will be around for quite some time." replied Jonnason.

_Triton's_ executive officer was much like Saul Tigh, but not as mean, nor did he possess Tigh's penchant for imbibing alcohol to excess. He seldom strayed from the rules, and was always impeccably turned out in his uniform. The running joke was that he spent half his pay on starch for his uniform. He merely smiled and replied, "I'll take that bet."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21.

**Battlestar Group 39 – Two days before the Cylon Assault on the Twelve Colonies**

Matt and Greenbean were standing outside of Green squadron leader Croft's quarters when the captain rounded the corner. "Here's a frakking crime in progress, what do you two want?" quipped Croft.

"We're finally getting the replacement vipers, cap?" asked Greenbean.

"Yeah, those four Mk. VI's and two Mk. V's, one of which you're still flying," he said gesturing to Matt, "are finally getting swapped out for the new Mk. VII's. You're gonna love the latest model, Hephaestus."

"Looking forward to it skipper, will there be any time for shore leave on Caprica?"

"Highly doubtful guys, most of the group is continuing on at a slow crawl as we swap out vipers. You'll be flying down to _Thanatos _Air Field where you and five other pilots will land your birds, report to the flight officer where you will sign out your new Mk. VII viper and return to the _Triton_ which will remain in orbit. Total surface time should be no more than four hours, depending on how busy these guys are."

"Hardly any time at all to enjoy the 'jewel of the colonies,' now is there?" lamented Greenbean.

"You're a frakking _Sagittaron_, historically your people hate the military and _Caprica_, aren't you afraid they'll take away your membership card or something?" joked Lensherr in thick Aerilonian brogue.

"The family disowned me long ago, the moment I joined colonial fleet and started hanging out with you unwashed sinners." joked the lanky pilot.

"Alright you two daggit frakkers, stop loitering around my hallway and go do something productive. We should be arriving at _Caprica_ in two days." ordered Croft as he opened the hatch to his stateroom and motioned his two pilots away with his hand in a dismissive gesture.

Matt stared at the book in his hand and blinked repeatedly, trying to focus. It had been the third time he read the same paragraph. The book was a true story written by a retired Colonial Marine who commanded the ground forces of Marine Fire Team _Nebula 461. _This fire team gained notoriety after holding at bay a squad of thirty-six heavily-armed Cylon centurions for twelve hours that were trying to overrun and destroy a key power station during the first Cylon war on the planet _Tauron_. Only six of the marine defenders survived the assault, holding out against superior enemy firepower until air support from the Battlestar _Atlantia_ arrived with a squadron of her Mk. II vipers. When Matt had first picked up the book from a fellow pilot who got it himself while on shore leave, he was unable to put it down. For some reason he was distracted of late, something felt off, and he couldn't quite figure out what it was. He slipped the book onto the small shelf above his head and rolled over closing his eyes. D'Anna immediately appeared in his mind's eye, she was sitting at a table with a military ensign hanging on the wall behind her. An ensign was a distinguishing flag of a ship or a military unit, this ensign belonged to the..._Galactica! _What did that mean? Why was he dreaming about D'Anna, and why would she be aboard a Colonial battlestar? He shook his head and focused on falling asleep.

**Caprica – Day of the Cylon Attack on the Colonies**

Greenbean came up behind Matt slapping his hand on his shoulder causing Matt, who was caught off guard to swing around quickly. "So are you going to miss this bucket of bolts, Matt?"

"I'm totally looking forward to the new viper, but in all honesty I have to admit I'll miss the Mk. V. She was a good fighter. The Mk. VI was an obvious piece of junk, it didn't surprise me that they cut production after only four hundred fifty of them. It was right around there that the third pilot died in one of them, right? Gotta give the ring-knockers at Picon Fleet Headquarters credit though, for ordering an immediate halt to that line once they found the flaws in the model." said Matt.

"Yeah, but they still kept what they made in service, even if they did correct the problems. The VI was doomed from the start, they should have just scrapped them all and proceeded right to the VII, they had the prototype already." complained Greenbean.

"The Mk. VI was the latest model," argued Matt, "they invested a lot of cubits into that line, they just couldn't push it aside if they were able to correct the problems. Word on the street was that the ring-knockers at headquarters put an unbelievable amount of pressure on the politicians to free up the money, and even more on the engineers who weren't quite ready to part with their little prototype. I wonder what other advancements there could have been had they not forced the Mk. VII to go into immediate production three years before they originally planned." Matt ran his hand down the long nose of his fighter as if he was caressing an old girlfriend. "I'm really going to miss this ship."

"Frak it!" exclaimed Greenbean. "No sense in wasting any more breath on the subject, let's go get our new toys, shall we?" A deck hand held Greenbean's helmet as he climbed up into his fighter. Settling into the well-worn seat he strapped himself in, and connected the atmospheric hoses into the appropriate valves, snapping them firmly in place. Triton's deck chief jumped up on the steps and peered into the cockpit.

"You're all set, Lieutenant. The deck crew will be loading your bird into the tubes, have a safe flight down there, and bring back your new bird in one piece, will ya?" said the chief in mock seriousness. He started to walk down the steps when he abruptly turned around. "Oh by the way, try not to run into any pirates out there...all the 30 mm rounds have been removed. By the same token, the cheap bastards down on _Caprica_ aren't sending you back up armed either."

"Gods forbid they spare the ammo." said Greenbean shaking his head in dismay. His viper was soon loaded into the launch tube, and within minutes he, Matt and the other four vipers were airborne and streaking towards the surface of _Caprica_.

**One hour before the Cylon Attack**

Matt was getting anxious, they were now well into their fifth hour sitting on the tarmac of _Thanatos_ Air Field. Greenbean and Slaphappy were the only two pilots to sign out their new vipers, the remaining four pilots sat under the canopy of the wheeled fire extinguisher. The level of frustration was palpable due to the face that four brand new Mk. VII vipers destined for _Triton_ sat before them. The paperwork still had not arrived. Matt looked up at Greenbean who was now clutching his helmet.

"No sense in you wasting time down here, Bean. There's no telling how long these frakkers will be, the damned things are fueled up and ready for preflight, but without the paperwork the flight line crew won't let us near em." complained Matt.

"Typical Caprican bureaucracy my friend. These people can't do anything right, how they've climbed to the top of the Colonial ladder escapes me." remarked Greenbean acidly.

"We'll see you back aboard then." replied Matt waving. The remaining pilots would watch the two vipers taxi down the runway in order to take off. Twenty minutes later a flight line vehicle arrived, and a specialist walked over to the four _Triton_ pilots who promptly got to their feet.

"I'm sorry for delay, sirs. I don't know what the problem was, I'm just the messenger." shrugged the young specialist apologetically. He produced a clipboard where each pilot affixed their signatures and just as quickly departed. Matt ran through the preflight check methodically and was soon ready for takeoff.

**Combat Information Center – Battlestar _Triton_**

"Commander, I have two vipers breaking orbit...receiving a request from Greenbean to approach and land." reported the communications officer.

"Alright, clear them for auto land in the alpha landing bay." directed Jonnason. "Any word on the other pilots?"

"Negative sir." Jonnason wanted to get under way, _Triton_ was approaching their estimated departure time and still had not recovered his new vipers from _Thanatos_ air field. He was ready to order his communications officer to contact _Thanatos_ control when the DRADIS sounded. The tactical officer was quick to respond.

"Multiple DRADIS contacts jumping into outer Caprican orbit, at least twelve unidentified ships bearing 25 carom 117." reported the tactical officer.

"Unidentified? No IFF?" The tactical officer shook his head. "Alright, launch Green squadron and a Raptor to identify, set condition one throughout the ship." said Jonnason as he adjusted his gaze towards the suspended DRADIS console over the plotting table. _Triton's_ lighting switched to red, indicating the ship was at _condition 1, _this is one of three stages of alertness on Colonial warships. Condition one being that an attack is present, or imminent. This alert places the ship at its highest state of readiness. All crews go to their combat posts. Bulkhead doors are closed in case of decompression. Additional viper pilots are scrambled to supplement the CAP and the Alert Fighters and support crews man their stations. The Combat Information Center is locked down and the ship's commander is on station.

Twelve vipers from Green squadron were soon aloft and vectoring for an intercept course on the unidentified spaceships that had just appeared around Caprica. The pilot of the Raptor was coming to within visual range of the closest ship. "Triton – Raptor 172...closing on unidentified ship, this thing looks to be around the size of a Battlestar with two Y-shaped hulls attached at their centers by a single pylon...over." Jonnason took the transmitter from the side of the plotting table and instructed the comm officer to patch him through directly to the raptor.

"Raptor 172 – _Triton _Actual...is the ship displaying any hostile actions?"

"Negative Actual...wait one...new batch of contacts emerging, much smaller, close to three hundred and counting. Omigods...these things somewhat resemble the old Cylon raiders, those giant flying wings." Jonnason immediately looked up and instructed the remaining air wing to be launched. "Triton be advised that the smaller ships are emitting a red light that..." The transmission ended abruptly, and the

DRADIS screen displayed the vipers breaking formation in an unorthodox way.

"Tactical...sitrep!" barked a confused Jonnason.

The tactical officer worked his fingers furiously over the keyboard before him, his face a puzzled mask. "Commander, all contact has been lost with Raptor 172 and Green squadron, we can see them on DRADIS, but there's zero com chatter."

The executive officer had entered the CIC a minute earlier and had listened to the reports silently, waiting to offer advice or make an observation to Jonnason if needed. He was concerned by the way the viper squadron was conducting their engagement of the smaller ships that were bearing down on them. He finally spoke up, "What are these guys doing? The smaller ships are almost within collision dist-" his voice trailed off as the transponder signals for green squadron disappeared in quick succession.

"_They're gone!"_ whispered the tactical officer. He firmed up his voice before repeating it aloud. "Green squadron is gone, commander!"


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22.

"What do you mean, _gone?" _demanded Jonnason. He knew this was not a DRADIS malfunction, the feeling that something had just gone dreadfully wrong started to wash over him.

"DRADIS functioning normally sir, Green squadron and Raptor 172's transponders ceased transmitting just before they vanished from the scans."

"They've been destroyed, commander." said the executive officer stone faced.

"What the hell...has anything come over from fleet headquarters?"

"Negative sir." replied the com officer.

"Comms, direct our air wing to intercept and destroy incoming ships," ordered Jonnason. "Weapons, prepare main batteries for firing...target the closest of the large Y-shaped ships."

"Cylons?" asked the executive officer.

"After forty years? Who can be sure, the raptor reported the smaller ships resembling flying wings, but the larger Y-shaped ships don't sound like Basestars. One thing is certain, these ships took out Green squadron unprovoked.

Lieutenant Greenbean was witnessing the same thing on his on-board DRADIS screen that _Triton's_ DRADIS in its CIC was displaying. He was less than a minute out from landing aboard his Battlestar. He was unarmed, and in a very dangerous position. Triple A fire filled the sky and he increased his speed in order to close the distance between him and the safety of the landing bay. The sooner he was aboard and could be armed, the sooner he could get into the fight. He was now within the zone for an auto landing, he cut his engines and felt the familiar tug of Triton guiding his viper into the immense landing bay opening.

**Triton CIC**

"Commander, Slaphappy and Greenbean are aboard," reported the tactical officer.

"Alright, get both of them refueled, armed and out into the fight, our air wing is outnumbered and we need everyone out there. X.O. sitrep on the remainder of the battlegroup."

"Reports are confusing, sir. We're receiving partial transmissions about power outages and system failures. Last transmission was from the _Solaria, _she was engaging a group of the smaller ships in Gemenon orbit when we lost contact.

"_Radiological alarm!" _yelled out the tactical officer. "Several of the large ships have launched nuclear missiles at Caprica...at least thirty and counting."

_Frak, it's an all out attack! thought Jonnason._

Matt and the remaining three _Triton_ vipers were entering the ionosphere of _Caprica _when all hell broke loose. Communications between _Thanatos_ Air Field erupted, and soon every frequency was abuzz with activity. Matt switched over to the battle group's frequency and his heart skipped a beat when he heard the words _"Cylon attack under way."_

"Hephaestus – Gideon...did you copy that last transmission, did they say Cylon attack under way, over?"

"Roger that Gideon, heard it loud and clear. Maintain radio silence until we figure what the frak our instructions are, over." replied Matt as he looked down at his DRADIS. The screen was filled with unidentified contacts severely outnumbering the orbiting _Triton_ and her air wing. Something was amiss, all vipers were airborne with the exception of his own squadron, where was Green squadron? He thumbed the transmitter button on his navi-hilt. "_Triton_ – Green five... requesting instructions for immediate approach, over."

"Green five – _Triton_, your group is directed to clear _Caprica_ airspace immediately, you have inbound nukes heading for the surface, repeat...clear _Caprica_ airspace immediately, inbound nukes. You are to land on _Triton_ immediately for refueling and arming. Cylon attack now under way, over." replied the communications officer. Matt's heart rate quickened at the news, where have the Cylons been all these years, and why attack now? An alarm blared as his attack computer identified an inbound nuclear missile streaking in on a near collision course with his viper. Having no ammunition aboard, Matt couldn't try to shoot it down. The chances were slim that he would be successful anyway. He banked his viper left hard, clearing the way for the large Cylon missile. The jet wash from the missile violently disrupted the air around the vipers. They were now entering the uppermost reaches of the atmosphere and would soon be in space where they would switch from atmospheric flight to space flight. The stars were much more visible, and he could see his Battlestar in the distance. About half a dozen Y-shaped spaceships of similar size to a Colonial Battlestar were spreading out further apart from each other, each one raining nuclear death onto the unsuspecting planet below.

**Combat Information Center – _Triton_**

"Commander we have a firing solution on the closest Basestar." informed the weapons officer.

"Fire main batteries!" ordered Jonnason. The ship shuddered as the massive bow-mounted batteries opened fire. The Cylon Basestar took two direct hits, sustaining massive damage, causing the ship to reverse course at high speed. Within moments of the counter-attack, another Basestar advanced on the _Triton_ accompanied by it's air wing of raiders.

"Basestar off the port bow, well within firing range commander." said the executive officer hovering over the tactical station. Before anyone could react, the basestar emitted a solid beam of red light that swept across the _Triton_, immediately system failures ship-wide occurred. "System failures across the board, commander! Weapons systems down, and maneuvering has been disabled, we're drifting." reported the executive officer.

"Switch to auxiliary power, get our defenses back online!" snapped Jonnason.

The helmsman tried frantically to regain control of the massive battlestar's maneuvering to no avail. The ship was starting to drift out of control and he couldn't understand why. "Commander, auxiliary control not responding, I cannot regain control of the ship, we're drifting. Propulsion at zero percent, nothing is responding."

"What the frak did they just do?" said Jonnason to his second in command who was now making his way quickly to the helmsman's station. "Direct our air wing to give us cover, and request immediate cover from the nearest Battlestar." ordered Jonnason to the communication's officer.

"Sir, all communications are down, we can't send or receive." The implications were staggering, Jonnason as well as every other officer in the CIC realized then that they were now totally defenseless against the Cylon attack. Whatever they did to the ship, was successful. They would soon be dead.

Matt's viper now flew silently through the vacuum of space. Looking back towards the surface he could see several detonations, one of them directly in the area of the air field he had just left. His felt sick, hundreds of thousand, if not millions of people were just incinerated without any warning. He quickly scanned the skies for the _Triton _which he found. It looked like she was starting to spin round aft-first. _"What is she doing?" _came the voice of one of the pilots in his group over the comline. _"She looks like she's drifting."_

Matt pushed the transmitter on his navi-hilt. "_Triton_ – Hephaestus requesting emergency approach for a hands-on approach...over." He repeated the request three more times without getting an answer. "Something's wrong, she's not answering us, and she's taking massive fire from the raiders and the basestars, she's totally defenseless." He was watching the DRADIS as one by one viper IFF's were disappearing from the screen. He looked on in horror as two Basestars engaged the totally defenseless _Triton_, raining indescribable punishment on his home ship. A massive eruption of light lit up the sky like a super nova as the Battlestar _Triton_ exploded. They were now alone, unarmed and outnumbered. Feeling bile build up in his throat he acted quickly. "Hephaestus to all Colonial vipers...clear the area, take a heading of 151 carom 205 and regroup. We'll use the explosion as our cover, hopefully the enemy DRADIS will remain blinded to cover our escape." Matt depressed the thruster pedal to the firewall and put as much distance between him and the Cylon forces swarming in upper orbit. His own DRADIS was useless with the amount of _Triton's_ debris that cluttered the area, he hoped the distortion would affect the Cylon's DRADIS as well, allowing them to slip away unnoticed.

**Lieutenant Matthew Lensherr's viper – three hours from _Caprica_**

Matt kept looking at the digital fuel gauge, he had less than four hundred pounds of aviation fuel left, after checking in with his wing mates it was determined that they had just about the same amount. They were hundreds of pounds away from flying their own burial boxes with nowhere to go. _Caprica_ and _Gemenon_ were the closest planets, and both were nuclear wastelands by now. Matt keyed the transmitter.

"Shut em down guys, let's conserve what little we have. We've put enough distance between us and the Cylons, let's go dark and keep our ears open." The three other pilots complied, using maneuvering thrusters to stay together. Matt rubbed his hands together, he had another twenty one hours of oxygen left that was supplied to a fitting in the collar which received air from a life support unit attached to the pilot's ejection seat. However, there was nowhere to go, his Battlestar destroyed high above Caprica with all hands lost, including his good friend Greenbean. A tear welled up in the corner of his eye as anger grew within him. A soft-sounding 'ping' announces a message being received. The small computer screen to his left displays the message. The comline soon comes alive.

"Hey Heph, did you receive that message too?" asked Lynx. "Adama has assumed command of the fleet, isn't he just a commander?"

"Last time I saw him he was indeed a commander, I met him on _Aerilon_ when the _Valkyrie_ came for a recruitment drive. He's apparently staging at Ragnar Anchorage to gather forces for a counter-attack." said Matt.

"Are we going?" asked another pilot.

"With what fuel? We'd never make it." replied Matt tersely. _What the frak is going on out there?_ Thought Matt to himself. What would they do? They couldn't continue to drift, and even with a maximum fuel load they couldn't reach the next colony, providing that even they survived the Cylon attack. The sound of the DRADIS snapped Matt back to attention. "Single DRADIS contact bearing 268 carom 329." barked Matt over the comline. The contact was colored blue, and a small identifier appeared beneath it. "Warbook identifies contact as Colonial registered vessel _Celestra, _a civilian scientific research ship." Matt rotated the dial on the frequency selector until he came to the civilian channel. "Attention _Celestra,_ this is Colonial viper 336, respond...over." The reply was immediate.

"Colonial Viper 336 this is _Celestra_, thank the Gods you've found us. When the Colonial government ordered a full stop on commercial and civilian space-travel we were en-route to _Caprica_ . We haven't been able to reach anyone."

"_Celestra_, I have four vipers nearly out of fuel, can your landing bay accommodate us...over?"

"Affirmative 336, can you give us ten minutes to clear some pallets on the main bay in order to make room for your fighters?" inquired the _Celestra's_ captain.

"That'll be fine, Celestra...thank you." replied Matt.

**Command Center - Colonial Scientific research ship _Celestra, _thirty minutes later**

"What about the rest of the fleet?" This was the voice of Captain Emelia Barnes, a woman of her early fifties, scientist by trade. She had been captain of the _Celestra_ for sixteen months and was returning from a four month research assignment when ordered to halt their travel.

"Unknown captain, the only information we're sure of is that Commander William Adama of the Battlestar _Galactica_ has assumed command of the fleet. Our own Battlestar, the _Triton_ was destroyed above _Caprica_. We cannot provide any protection, our vipers are unarmed. We were returning from _Thanatos_ air field where we took possession of these new vipers."

"Well lieutenant, we don't have any fuel suitable for a military fighter, nor do carry any sort of ammunition, so it looks as if you and your men will be our guests for the time being." said the older woman smiling. In the meantime, why don't you go down to the galley and get something to eat and drink, we're monitoring all frequencies and will come get you immediately if we hear anything."

"Thank you captain, we appreciate your hospitality." said Matt softly. The four viper pilots from the now-destroyed _Triton _peeled their flight suits off and made their way down to their host's galley. Matt had poured himself a large mug of steaming black coffee and sat down in the corner. He couldn't bring himself to eat anything, the shock and horror of the last few hours were burned into his psyche, an appetite non-existent.

"What do we do now, Heph?" asked one of the pilots, a junior grade lieutenant with less than a year out of flight school.

"I have no idea, my mind is still frakking reeling from everything that's happened so far. We have no way of knowing what happened to the fleet. What we _do_ know is that the Cylons have returned, and they nuked _Caprica_ and destroyed our ship. For the time being, we're going to remain on the _Celestra_ until we can make contact with our battle group, or any other group."

Unknown to Matthew Lensherr, the Cylon attack on the colonies was an absolute success. Espionage discovered that the Colonial military reincorporated networked systems into their computer technology, something that had been discontinued during the first Cylon war forty years before. It is unknown if this was due to hubris on the part of the admiralty, when they were presented with advancements from Doctor Gaius Baltar on the operating systems used by Colonial fleet. Perhaps allowing them to believe that they had become so advanced in their technology that the Cylons couldn't possibly pose a threat after their long absence, or maybe just a fatal misjudgment. Baltar had believed that he had perfected his Command Navigation Program, or CNP with the help of a beautiful young woman he believed to be an employee of a rival defense contractor. He unwittingly allowed the woman access to the Colonial Defense Mainframe. Unknown to him at the time, this woman was a humanoid Cylon who created countless programmer 'backdoors' which allowed the Cylons to inflict multitudinous electronic attacks that completely bypass Colonial electronic defenses and inflict varying degrees of damage to any Colonial military computer. To the people who had this tactic used against them, it was akin to someone "throwing a switch." Vipers were powered down without warning, allowing them to be destroyed by enemy fire. The much larger Battlestars and other support ships also suffer the subterfuge, encountering an abnormally-high number of "equipment malfunctions" during their engagement of the enemy. Add to the equation an overwhelmingly superior numbered force of Basestars and smaller fighter craft that appear undetected, the Colonial fleet is quickly destroyed with minimal losses to the Cylon attack force.

_Picon_ Fleet headquarters, the central operational and support center for Colonial Fleet operations is obliterated in the opening attack by the Cylons, as is the Scorpion Fleet Shipyards, a fleet dockyard located in orbit around the planet _Scorpia_ which is turned to slag under multiple nuclear strikes. Six warships, including three Battlestars are vaporized, only the _Pegasus_ escaped the shipyards in a blind jump. The destruction inflicted on the Colonies defies description.

The hatch to the galley swung open and in stepped the executive officer. "Lieutenant...we've just made contact with a Colonial Raptor, the captain requests your presence on the bridge." Matt quickly bounded through the hatch, fast on the heels of the _Celestra's_ second in command who was already heading topside. Up four flights of narrow stairs, they soon entered the bridge. Sixteen inch-thick glass made up the six foot long, three foot high observation port on the bridge. The protective steel shielding was retracted to allow the outside view. A Colonial Raptor maneuvered one hundred yards off the port side, its pilot signaling the _Celestra_.

"_Celestra_ this is Boomer of Colonial Raptor 312, over." Captain Barnes donned a communications headset and adjusted the microphone so it was just off the corner of her lip and pushed the transmit button on the right headphone assembly.

"Colonial Raptor 312, this is Captain Emelia Barnes of the _Celestra_, thank the gods you've found us."

"_Celestra_, please transmit your ship's manifest and crew complement, also...are you FTL capable?"

"Affirmative Boomer, we are FTL capable, also...be advised that we have four viper pilots from the _Triton_ and their fighters aboard, we picked them up nearly out of fuel three hours out of _Caprica. _We are currently operating at slightly above half our rated fuel capacity, and the ship is in good operating condition...over."

"_Celestra_ – Boomer...message received, you are to rendezvousing with surviving Colonial registered vessels per order of the president of the colonies, at that time we will jump to a secure location awaiting further instructions...over."

"Message received Boomer, and thank you!" exclaimed a joyous Barnes.

**Colonial One – formerly Colonial Heavy 798**

Newly sworn-in president of the colonies Laura Roslin stood outside the airlock as the bay pressurized. Raptor 312 had just come aboard four minutes earlier with the captain of the _Celestra_ and the senior military officer aboard. A red light signaled green, indicating that the bay was now fully pressurized. The massive six inch thick doors slid open, and Laura briskly walked through them. By the time she reached the raptor, the hatch was opening. Lt. Sharon "Boomer" Valerii jumped down to the deck, followed by Matt and Captain Barnes. Matt immediately noticed three Mk. VII vipers, and much to his surprise, a pristine viper of the Mk. II variety.

"Captain Barnes, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you," began Laura. Her smile was genuine and disarming, she then turned to Matt. "I assume you are lieutenant Lensherr of the _Triton?_"

"Yes..._Madam President_." replied Matt awkwardly. When he was initially told he would be meeting the president aboard _Colonial One_ he had assumed that he would be meeting President Adar, unbeknown to him that Adar had perished on _Caprica_ in the opening attack. He had heard of Laura Roslin, knew that she was a minor player in the administration, the education secretary to be exact, but never did he think the line of presidential succession would make it all the way to her. "Madam President, I notice there are colonial vipers aboard..." began Matt.

"Yes lieutenant, when this ship was merely the government transport ship assigned to my department it was used to transport me to the _Galactica_ for the decommissioning ceremony in anticipation of the ship being converted into a traveling classroom. Commander Adama's son, Lee Adama, was our escort back to _Caprica_ when the Cylons attacked. While protecting this ship from a Cylon missile, his own viper became disabled and we were able to retrieve him. The other three vipers you see were stragglers, picked up in space, nearly out of fuel. I'll see to it that you're introduced to Captain Adama as soon as possible."

"Thank you Mam, may I ask what happens next?"

"Once the attack began, the Colonial government ordered a full stop on commercial and civilian space-travel, leaving hundreds of non-military vessels stranded in surrounding space-lanes. Lt. Valerii's raptor is being sent out in search of any Colonial vessel and bringing them back here. Captain Barnes, I will need a complete accounting of any foodstuff or medical supplies you may have aboard, as well as the number of personnel at your disposal."

"Right away, Madam President!" replied Barnes. With a nod and a smile, Laura turned and walked back through the hatch she entered through, her chief of staff, a young man named Billy Keikeya remained behind.

"Captain Barnes, crewman Lysis will be at you disposal to gather inventory _Celestra's_ supplies," said Billy gesturing to a young woman who was most likely the flight attendant on the ship before it became _Colonial One_. "Lieutenant, if you'll follow me." Matt had followed the young man up two decks and was brought to a small compartment that Captain Adama was using at the moment. Lee was surpised to see another Colonial officer and his face immediately brightened up.

"Lieutenant...good to see a fellow viper jock." said Adama rising to his feet. Matt quickly came to attention and saluted.

"Lieutenant Matthew Lensherr, formerly of Green squadron aboard the _Triton_, sir!" Lee smiled and gestured to the young man to take a seat.

"Stand at ease, lieutenant." Lee made the introductions of the other three viper pilots, two of them from the Battlestar _Yashuman_, and one from the _Solaria. _"At this time we have no idea how many battlestars survived the attack, I have no idea what happened to your home ship."

"Destroyed sir." Matt replied ruefully. "_Triton_ was destroyed above _Caprica _without firing a gods-frakking shot." Lee could feel the young man's pain.

"All I was told was that Boomer had picked up four vipers from the _Triton_. Are your birds damaged?"

"No sir, we had just took delivery of them at _Thanatos_ Air field and were returning to _Triton_ when the Cylons attacked. They sent us up unarmed, so we couldn't even join the fight. We were just breaking orbit when we saw _Triton_ get taken out. I ordered my flight to kick in the burn and head for deep space before we were spotted."

"Well lieutenant...your quick thinking saved your life, and the lives of those three other pilots. What's your call sign?"

"Hephaestus, sir!"

"_Hephaestus?_ You were named after the lame and ugly fire god?" asked Lee suppressing laughter. "Your academy instructor had an odd sense of humor, care to explain?"

"My guess was that it was due to the fact that I was a firefighter on _Aerilon_ before joining Colonial fleet, sir."

"Probably," replied Lee. "well my call sign is Apollo, and this is Chaos, Poundcake and Divit." he said gesturing to each pilot who in turned offered their hand. "We're all this civilian fleet has for protection, and it's quite lame at that. Our vipers are low on ammo, and yours has none." A knock at the door was followed by a female flight attendant who informed Lee that his presence was requested on the bridge immediately for an incoming message. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me...Hephaestus, good to have you with us." Apollo soon disappeared.

In the small pilot's cabin of Colonial One Lee was pulling the decrypted message off the printer, scanning through its contents he let out a sharp breath and arched an eyebrow. President Roslin, standing at his side asked "What is it?" Lee looked uncomfortable, and proceeded to reread the message aloud.

"_To all Colonial units. Am taking command of fleet." _He paused before going on,_ "All units ordered to rendezvous at Ragnar anchorage for regroup and counterattack...acknowledge by same encryption protocol...Adama."_

Laura took the message and read it herself, she cocked her head slightly as if in thought and replied. "Captain Apollo, please inform Commander Adama...that we are currently involved in rescue operations...and we require his assistance." She went on, "ask him how many hospital beds he has available and how long it will take for him to get here"

Lee shifted uncomfortably, replying weakly. "I, uh—I'm not sure he's going to respond very well to that request."

Laura was undeterred, and said a little more forcefully, "Then tell him...this comes _directly_ from the president of the Twelve Colonies...and it's _not_ a request!"

Lee could only respond, "yes sir!" and after a moment added, "and sir, Apollo's just my call sign. My name is Lee Adama. Laura responded with a genuinely warm smile, and softened voice.

"I know who you are, but 'Captain Apollo' has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" and she turned and exited the cabin, leaving Lee to make the notification that all present knew would not be received very well.

**Combat Information Center - Battlestar _Galactica_**

Petty officer Dualla braced herself for Adama's reaction to the printed message she had just handed him, she had to reread it twice herself before allowing it to sink in. With his back still turned to her, the first words out of Commander William Adama's mouth was "_Is this a_ _joke?_" He composed himself and then asked "Are they within voice range?"

"Yes, sir." replied Dualla as she established wireless communications with the ship that only five hours earlier held ship designation _Colonial Heavy 798_, it was now _Colonial One_; the official call sign of any Colonial government spacecraft carrying the president of the Colonies.

Adama took the offered headset and put it on, speaking into the lip microphone. "Hey are you-" he pauses and clears his throat loudly, "Is your ship alright?"

Lee was instantly annoyed, his relationship with his father was almost non-existent since his brother Zac's death, a death he placed squarely on the shoulders of his father, wasn't that just like him, unable to show even a hint of concern for the welfare of his only surviving son.

"We're both fine. _Thanks for asking._" snapped Lee sarcastically. Ignoring the flippancy, Adama then proceeded to inquire about Colonial One's faster than light drive, or F.T.L. Lee glanced over to the pilot next to him who nodded in the affirmative. "That's affirmative." replied Lee more professionally.

"Then you're ordered to bring yourself and all of your passengers...to the rendezvous point. Acknowledge." said Adama.

Lee's heart sank as he brought himself to answer. "Acknowledge..._receipt_ of message." Bill Adama found himself flush with anger.

"What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.

"It means I hear you." replied Lee, trying not to sound sheepish.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than that , Captain." Lee attempted to explain that they were involved in the rescue operation of numerous civilian vessels when the president walked into the cabin. She listened to the back and forth between father and son, commander and subordinate over the speaker. Adama cut him off, "You are to abort your mission immediately...and proceed to Ragnar."

"The president has given me a direct order..." began Lee.

"You're talking about the Secretary of Education. We're in the middle of a war...and you're taking orders from a _school teacher?_" said Adama angrily. An alarm sounded, indicating approaching vessels. The captain informed Lee that they were identified as Cylons, and they would be upon them in under two minutes. Lee broke communications with his father to focus on the incoming threat. At the same time, _Galactica's_ remote sensor telemetry picked up the same threat to _Colonial One_. Lee turned to Laura, explaining that they had to jump away right now. The president steadfastly denied the suggestion, stating that she would not abandon the civilian ships she had gathered together. Lee could not convince her to leave, and then an idea had struck him. He stood up, requesting permission to "go below" and ran out of the cabin towards the hanger bay.

Tactical officer Lieutenant Felix Gaeta reported that two enemy fighters were closing in on _Colonial One's_ position. Adama immediately looked up at the DRADIS console suspended from the ceiling above the plotting table he was standing at. He grabbed the headphones he had just hastily thrown down moments before in frustration and started to yell out to Lee. No one responded as he watched the red enemy fighter symbols bear down on the blue symbols representing civilian transports. Every crewman in the CIC stood horrified as they watched the DRADIS screen, their commander's voice cracked with a father's emotion trying to save his child. The screen distorted in a bright blue flash, and then all colonial transponders vanished. Lee and the civilian fleet were gone.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23.

**Colonial One**

Lee felt like his innards had been wrenched out of every pour in his body, then forcibly shoved back in through his throat. His eyelids were slowly opening, vision blurred. He was flat on his back in front of the set of pulse generators taken from _Galactica_ earlier at the decommissioning ceremony. He felt two sets of hands upon him, helping him to his feet. _Colonial One's_ pilot and the president herself.

"I think it worked." said Lee unsteadily.

"What exactly did you do?" asked Laura.

"I basically just used the- the hyperdrive to manipulate the energy coils." stuttered Lee. "I put out- put out a big pulse of electromagnetic energy that must have disabled the warheads. I'm hoping it looked like a nuclear explosion."

"Did it fool the Cylons?"

"I don't know...but if- if they weren't fooled, then they'd be on top of us by now." replied Lee. The three started walking briskly back to the upper decks when Lee started to make a suggestion, one that Laura Roslin immediately finished for him.

"...evacuate the passenger liner, and get the hell out of here before the Cylons realize their mistake, I'm right with you, Captain!"

Battlestar Galactica – On approach to Ragnar anchorage

The 4,720 foot Colonial battlestar slowly completed the first leg of her turn entering the corridor that would lead to _Ragnar_. Throughout the long process, Adama and Tigh remained vigilant as junior officer, lieutenant Felix Gaeta, instructed the helmsman on maneuvering through the narrow corridor. Once safely into the ionosphere of the gas giant, the ride got slightly choppy. Another hour passed before the lone surviving battlestar successfully docked with the remote Colonial armory suspended in the upper atmosphere of the gas giant. Adama was well aware of the safety that Ragnar provided, the engineers in Colonial fleet deliberately had created this station in this location, aware that the atmosphere's radiation adversely affects Cylon technology. Even if found, the radiation levels would keep the Cylons at bay.

After establishing a hard seal with the station, work crews immediately entered and went about the task of rearming the _Galactica. _Fiftypallets of Class D nuclear warheads were an unexpected surprise, these relatively light-weight thermonuclear weapons were routinely used by battlestars and their viper squadrons, and they were sorely needed. Massive quantities of ammunition for the main batteries and point defense turrets were available for the taking, along with small arms ammunition, grenades, shoulder-fired missiles and 30mm rounds used in the Kinetic Energy Weapons, or KEWS aboard vipers.

"Commander, receiving a message from Chief Tyrol over the wireless." reported Dualla. "He reports that they've discovered a lone male hiding within the storage bay, he was armed and demanding safe passage out of Ragnar. The chief suspects this guy is an arms dealer."

Adama rubbed his temples and sighed. "Do I really need this felgercarb right now? Alright, Dee, inform the chief that two marines will be sent over to take custody of his arms dealer." Turning to Tigh he motioned for him to come over.

"Yes, Bill?" said the executive officer walking over to the plotting table, a sheath of papers, inventory of Ragnar still clutched in his hands.

"Saul I need to get out of here for a bit, I'm going to go supervise Tyrol's progress, and check out this trespasser. Hold down the fort, will you?" Tigh merely nodded, and went back through the handful of papers before him. Adama made the twenty minute walk down to the access hatch connecting _Galactica_ to the station. He soon met up with Chief Tyrol who was overseeing the loading of munitions. Two marines were standing by a tall man with short cropped blond hair, and piercing gray eyes. The man looked sickly, sweating profusely.

"What's in there?" asked Adama motioning to a closed hatch that he noticed the man casting his eyes upon with greater frequency.

"Stuff." replied the man uneasily. Adama was immediately suspicious and opened the hatch. While looking into the darkened room, the dealer explained how the surplus warheads would make him a lot of cubits on the open market. He was momentarily distracted by Tyrol yelling at some workers about stacking certain explosives too high. Turning back to the dealer he noticed he was really sweating now, his color awful.

"You don't look so good." observed Adama. Before a reply could be made, Tyrol was screaming out a warning. The two deck hands moving a container of explosives lost control of the multi-ton device they used to move them and the whole rack tipped over, spilling one unsecured round to the deck. A loud beeping and bright flashing light on the end of the cylinder indicated that it was going to explode any moment. People dove for cover, and Adama grabbed the man by the vest he was wearing and threw him into the hatch they just opened as the round exploded. The pressure wave launched both men further into the darkened room, causing the hatch to slam shut, the massive quantities of heat melted the door and bulkhead into an unrecognizable mess. Adama, and the arms dealer were trapped within.

Unable to open the hatch, it is determined to take an alternate means of egress known to the dealer whose name would later be discovered to be Leoben Conoy. With his suspicions raised, Adama had Leoben lead the way, keeping ten feet worth of distance between the two. The two men talked while they made their way through the bowels of the station, Leoben talking about human savagery, that perhaps the Cylons were retribution by God for humanity's many sins. Leoben's reference to a singular god caught Adama's attention. His next statement brought Adama up short.

"What if God decided he made a mistake, and he decided to give souls to another creature, like the Cylons?"

"_God_ didn't create the Cylons. Man did." snapped Adama. " And I'm pretty sure we didn't include a soul in the programming."

**Combat Information Center – Battlestar _Galactica_**

Tigh hovered over the tactical station as Gaeta broke the transmission with Tyrol. "Chief says we're looking at three hours minimum...before we have all the warheads in our magazines." Tigh glanced down at the clipboard and started to say something when the alert for action stations sounded. Gaeta immediately looked at his console, "We have multiple contacts through the storm towards the anchorage." He turned towards Tigh, "Looks like more than fifty ships."

"Cut us loose from the station." ordered Tigh. _"Launch the alert fighters!" _He picked up the hand held transmitter attached to the side of the plotting table. "Set condition one throughout the ship."

"_Wait..." _the voice belonged to Petty officer Dualla_. "_Wait. I'm getting Colonial signals now."

"Confirm that!" barked Tigh as he replaced the transmitter into its cradle. "Don't just accept friendly I.D." The young woman ran the check twice more before turning to Tigh to inform him that the the incoming ships were indeed friendly. Tigh ordered the ship to stand down from action stations, and was surprised to hear that the president of the colonies was requesting permission to come aboard.

**Conference room alpha – Battlestar _Galactica_**

"We are in the middle of repairing and rearming this ship. Said Tigh none to politely to the woman who only this morning was the secretary of education. "We can't afford to lose a single man off the line to start caring for _refugees._" The last word rolling off his tongue as if it was laced with bile. Laura Roslin couldn't believe what she was hearing, and didn't bother to hide her shock and displeasure with the Colonel's stance.

"We have 50,000 people out there. Some of them are hurt. Our priority has to be for caring for refugees-" Tigh gruffly cut her off, the disdain for her clearly in his voice.

"_My_ priority is preparing this ship for combat. In case you haven't heard, there's a war on." he followed up sarcastically.

"Colonel, the war is over..._and we lost!_"

"We'll see about that." replied Tigh.

"Oh, yes, we will." countered Laura standing her ground. "In the meantime, however, as president of the colonies, I'm giving you a direct order-"

"_You don't give orders on this ship!" _said Tigh getting right in the president's face. The confrontation would had reached explosive levels if not for the fast intervention by Lee. He strongly, yet respectfully voiced his support for the care of the refugees, playing to Tigh's pride on a level that had escaped the president. The expression on Tigh's faced showed that Lee was winning him over, at least in providing two disaster pods. Looking directly at the president he made it clear that no personnel would be spared to retrieve or distribute the pods, and that all personnel needed to be off the ship before they jumped back to the fight. He stopped in front of Lee on his way out the door and informed him that he was now the senior pilot on the ship, and to report to the flight deck.

The arms dealer was obviously in serious pain, his clothes were soaked in sweat, and his close cropped hair that was normally spiked up was flat due to the sweat. Adama turned to see the man sit down on the metal stairs. "What is it about this place? What's it doin' to me?" he groaned .

"Must be your allergies." replied Adama, referring to the man's earlier admission of something within the station 'affecting his allergies.'

The man smiled and replied, "I don't have allergies!"

"I didn't think so." shot back Adama, now moving closer to him. "What you got is silica pathways to the brain, or whatever it is you call that thing you pretend to think with. It's decomposing as we speak."

"It's the storm, isn't it? It puts out something. Something you discovered has an effect on Cylon technology." Adama had long suspected something was different about the man before him, now to hear the words from the man's own lips was hard confirmation. _He was a Cylon_. "That's it, isn't it? And this is a refuge. That's why you put a fleet out here. Last ditch effort to hide from the Cylon attack, right? Well, it's not enough, Adama." He proceeded to taunt Adama with observations that the Cylon fleet would soon be upon them, and they would destroy them before suffering any of the storm's detrimental effect on Cylon technology. The anger had clearly boiled over as Adama leaped to the steps, pulling the humanoid Cylon to his feet.

"Maybe," he hissed, "but you- but you won't find out because you'll be dead in a few minutes. How does that make you feel, if you can feel?"

The Cylon narrowed his gaze, speaking in measured tones. "I can feel more than you could ever conceive, Adama. But I _won't_ die. When this body dies, my consciousness will be transferred to another one. And when that happens..." he groaned under the fresh spasm of pain. "I think I'll tell the others exactly where you are... and then I think they'll come here... and they'll kill all of you... and I'll be here watching it happen."

"You know what I think?" asked Adama lowering himself to meet the man eye to eye as he sat on the floor. "I think if you could've transferred outta here, you would've done it long before now. I think the storm's radiation really clogged up your connection. _You aren't going anywhere. _You're stuck in that body."

"It doesn't matter. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things you've done." he taunted, using Adama's own words from his speech at the decommissioning ceremony. His head rolled down as if he would pass out, and then, just as fast, a hand reached out, wrapping itself around Adama's throat like an iron vice. Adama was caught off guard by the sudden move by the man he thought near incapacitated in pain. The Cylon slowly rose to his feet, lifting the surprised colonial officer off both feet, choking the life out of him. The lantern he still held in his hand came across the side of the Cylon's skull with little effect. A well placed strike to Adama's mid section sent him flying across the boiler room, landing hard on the floor. Picking himself off the floor, Adama watched as the Cylon tore a steel pipe from its housing with one bare hand, intending to use it as a bludgeon. Dodging the would-be fatal blow, Adama used the lantern he still held in his hand as a weapon, striking his attacker several times amongst the head and chest, pushing him back towards the spot where steam erupted from where the steel pipe once was.

William Adama rained blow after bone-crushing blow down upon the head of the Cylon who posed as a human arms dealer. Blood flew, splattering against Adama's face with every blow landed in an unrestrained fury. The head of the thing before him was split open like a ripe mellon, and Adama was sure he was dead, or deactivated. Out of breath, he looked about. The lantern was still functioning, and he swept it across the room until coming to a stop on a hatchway. Opening the hatch he stepped out into a long hallway, flickering hand-held lights could be seen at the far end. Help had arrived.

**Causeway Delta – Battlestar _Galactica_**

An emergency medical technician had just finished stitching up the side of Adama's head, the two inch gash required at least twenty two sutures to close. The wound was a result of the vicious attack on Adama by the arms dealer now officially identified as Leoben Conoy. Colonel Tigh kept his voice low, waiting for the occasional crewman to pass out of earshot before continuing the conversation.

"This just gets worse and worse. Now the Cylons look like us." said Tigh.

"Down to our blood."

"You realize what this means? They could be anywhere. Could be anyone." said Tigh, letting it fully sink in. After inquiring about the loading of munitions, Adama is told there is more news.

"_Lee is alive!" _Adama's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and joy. The first good news he'd heard in what felt like years. He had to go be with his son, immediately.

**Launch bay – four hours later**

Lee stood on the deck beside the wing of Starbuck's viper as she completed her pre-flight check. Her mission was a dangerous one, to traverse the only passage in or out of Ragnar and see what was beyond the storm. "You understand the mission?" Lee pressed. "No heroics...this is strictly recon."

"You don't have to worry about me." she interrupted. "My taste for heroics vanished about the time I first engaged that first Cylon fighter." He smiled and started walking away when Kara mouthed the words she never thought she would. "Lee...Zak failed basic flight." That brought him up short, he quickly climbed onto the wing to confront Kara.

"What?" he demanded. She was talking about his dead brother, the man she was engaged to be sealed to. She went on to explain how he lacked the skill to be a viper pilot, but as his flight instructor, and lover, she couldn't bring herself to fail him. She had just admitted that her lack of judgment allowed him to become a viper pilot even though he was not qualified, and it had cost him his life in a brutal flight accident. Lee felt like he had just been kicked in the gut, he glared at Kara and asked why she was telling him this now.

"It's the end of the world, Lee. I thought I should confess my sins." she replied. She then doffed her helmet and pulled the canopy shut. Grim faced and angry, Lee stormed off the flight deck.

Adama replaced the receiver from the phone back into its cradle, the news kept getting worse. The new president was insisting on meeting with him in the wardroom immediately, and now his executive officer just told him that the ship's public relations specialist, Aaron Doral was confirmed by Doctor Baltar to be another type of humanoid Cylon. Doral was safely secured in the brig where he could remain for the time being. He decided to get this meeting over with so he could get back into the fight.

The marine guard opened the hatch as he approached. The new president was currently in discussion with her chief of staff. He was discussing what should be done with prisoners that were found to be housed aboard the _Astral Queen, _a prison barge that was left stranded out in space when the Cylons attacked. The unspoken question was perfectly clear, should they cut the ship loose from the fleet, or strand every prisoner aboard the anchorage in order to conserve resources for survivors who just happened not to be convicted criminals. Adama studied the reaction of the president closely.

"No, no. No, we're _not_ gonna start that. They're still human beings. Tell the captain that I expect daily reports on the well-being of his prisoners. And if there's any mysterious deaths, the Astral Queen may find herself on her own..._without_ the Galactica's protection!" Acknowledging his president's direct instructions, the young chief of staff took his leave, leaving the commander and president alone. Waiting for the door to fully close, Laura looked directly at the man before her.

"You planning to stage a military coup?" asked Laura point blank.

"_What?" _asked Adama, unsure if he actually heard what he thought he just heard.

"Do you plan to declare martial law, take over the government?"

"Of course not." replied Adama indignantly.

"Then you do acknowledge my position as president as constituted under the Articles of Colonization." she said, more statement than question. Adama looked annoyed, and replied in a clear and concise manner.

"Ms. Roslin, my primary objective at the present time... is to repair the _Galactica... _and continue to fight."

Laura Roslin studied the man before her for a moment, weighing carefully her words. "What we know at this moment is there are 50,000 civilian refugees out there... who don't stand a chance without your ship to protect them."

"We're aware of the tactical situation. And I'm sure you'll all be safe here on Ragnar after we leave." replied Adama.

"After you leave? Where're you going?"

"To find the enemy. We're at war, that's my mission." His reply brought a small smile to her face, the type used by teachers when having to correct a wayward student.

"I honestly don't know why... _I_ have to keep telling _you_ this, but the war is over."

"It hasn't begun yet." shot back Adama. Laura shook her head, replying that his comment was insane.

"_You'd rather we run?"_

"Yes, absolutely. That's the_ only _sane thing to do here. Exactly that- _run! _We leave this solar system, and we don't look back."

"And we go where?" challenged Adama, growing weary of the conversation.

"Another star system. Another planet, somewhere where the Cylons won't find us.

"You can run if you'd like. This ship will stand, and it will fight." Laura decided to try a different tactic.

"I'm gonna be straight with you here," she said, pausing for effect. "The human race is about to be wiped out. We have 50,000 people left, and that's it. Now, if we are even going to survive as a species... then we need to get the hell out of here, and we need to start having babies."

Adama looked at the woman before him, thinking she just crossed the line into insanity herself. Getting up, he excused himself and left the wardroom.

**Galactica's Combat Information Center**

Starbuck's voice crackled over the p.a. System, the sitrep was not good news. _"I didn't get an accurate count. But it looks like two basestars with ten fighter squadrons... and two recon drone detachments patrolling the area. By the way they were deployed, I'd say they're waiting for us to come to them, over."_

"Bring her home." ordered Adama. He joined Lee, Tigh and Gaeta at the plotting table. They started to discuss the tactical disadvantage they currently found themselves in. He noticed the young presidential aide standing by the communications station, talking quietly with petty officer Dualla. A complete stranger could tell there was something going on between the two. His new CAG was now engaging in a heated discussion as to what to do with the civilian fleet under their protection when he spoke up. His sentence stopping the conversation cold.

"_They better start having babies." _said Adama matter-of-factly. The three other men turned to see who their commander was referring to.

"Is that an order?" deadpanned the executive officer, a man not known for any sense of humor.

"Maybe, before too long. Okay, we're going to take the civilians with us. _We're gonna leave this solar system, and we're not gonna come back." _announced Adama quietly.

"We're running?" asked Tigh.

He looked directly at his old friend, speaking in a calm tone, but in a way that let them all know that the decision was final. "This war is over, we lost!"

In a rare display of solidarity, Lee acknowledged that his father was right, and it was time to go. The decision was made to go to the _Prolmar_ sector, a region of space many light years from the colonies. He instructed Gaeta to plot the jump, and then turned towards the star chart. "This is a bad tactical position. We'll pull the _Galactica_ out five clicks. The civilians will come out behind us, cross the threshold... and make the jump while we hold off the Cylons." He now was looking directly at Lee, "Once the civilians have made the jump, every fighter is to make an immediate combat landing. We don't have much time."

Lee immediately realized the importance of the strategy, and felt the confidence his father was putting into him. "I'll tell them." he said.

"_I want all my pilots to return, do you understand?" _Lee knew this was not a question, and he soon left the CIC to go brief his pilots.

"So, what do we do about our prisoner?" asked Saul. He was referring to Aaron Doral who was identified earlier by Baltar as a Cylon spy. Adama had an answer.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24.

**Pilot's ready room – port flight pod**

Lee had just finished briefing all of his pilots about the mission and was about to wrap up when he looked over towards Matt, and the small contingent of pilots who were until just recently, assigned to other battlestars. "You were all introduced to the pilots who were picked up earlier, I want to reiterate my earlier statements...those of your who came from the _Triton_, the _Solaria_, the _Yashuman_, and other posts I can't stress enough when I say that you are now part of _Galactica's_ family. We are all brothers and sisters now, all battlestar group, or viper squadron rivalries aside..._we are all squadron mates now, and the commander and I want to see all of you come back alive!" _said Lee, driving the final statement home.

**Six hours later**

With the time-consuming jump coordinates plotted, and vipers armed and fueled, the _Galactica_ had now broken free of the anchorage and was moving through the passageway that would lead them out of the storm. The civilian fleet followed closely as the massive battlestar took up a covering position outside of the storm's threshold. Vipers were being loaded into the launch tubes in preparation for launch. Matt gripped the navi-hilt gently, readying himself for the violent thrust backwards that the catapult would cause as it threw his star fighter down the length of launch tube sixteen out into space. He was aboard his own brand new viper, the tail assembly still displayed "Triton" and its designation number 336CA, the CA standing for Constellation Alpha.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"Weapons grid to full power." barked Tigh, "Stand by enemy suppression barrage." _Galactica's_ massive dorsal batteries angled up in the direction of the two Cylon basestars that were holding their position above _Galactica._

"Incoming, seventy-two Cylon fighters, closing at 120 carom 48." warned Gaeta from the tactical station.

"Enemy suppression fire. All batteries execute!" ordered Adama. Over five hundred point defense turrets, most located along the entire sides of the flight pods in twin mountings, filled the air with deadly flak, tasked with destroying incoming projectiles or fighters. The raiders streaking down towards the lone battlestar ran full force into a solid wall of lead, blunting their advance with extreme prejudice. The first of the civilian ships starting to emerge from the storm beneath Galactica.

With the perimeter established, the vipers were ordered to launch. Matt looked over to the launch officer who was also known as the shooter. "You're cleared to launch, Hephaestus...good hunting!" The launch officer through the switch, and viper 336 was away. Matt could feel his shoulders driven back into the well-padded seat as he travels the one hundred and seventy feet out into space. Out of the corner of his eyes he watches the other vipers emerge from the other thirty nine launch tubes on the port flight pod. The majority of the fighters are of the Mk. II variety, Matt had learned upon his arrival that _Galactica's_ air wing of Mk. VII's were wiped out in the opening attacks. They had fallen victim to the compromised CNP that allowed the Cylons to access their systems from a back door. Immediately upon transferring from _Celestra_ to _Galactica_, Chief Tyrol's deck gang removed the factory issued CNP from the Mk. VII's and replaced them with ones that could not be corrupted.

_Galactica's_ starboard flight pod had been converted into a museum in anticipation of the ship's decommissioning and new assignment as a floating school/museum, which meant the forty launch tubes on that side of the ship were out of service. A battlestar normally fielded between eighty to one hundred vipers. _Galactica's_ air wing under command of Major Jackson "Dipper" Spencer was wiped out en route to _Caprica_, only a complete squadron of obsolete Mk. II vipers that were part of the museum showcase survived. With the addition of less than a dozen refugee vipers from other battlestars, _Galactica_ now had herself a semi-functioning air wing.

A message from the CAG blared across the comline. _"Broken formation. Razzle-dazzle. Don't let em use their targeting computers...and for frak's sake, stay out of Galactica's firing solution." _As each pilot acknowledged Apollo's directive the fight commenced. A trio of raiders were coming in high on Matt's port side and he turned into them, firing his 30mm thraxon cannons. The lead raider exploded as the other two rolled left and right. The one that rolled left flew straight into Starbuck's line of fire and was split in two. Matt banked his viper to the right and took out the other raider.

"Good shooting Hephaestus... you almost look like you know what you're doing!" shouted Starbuck as she flew past him under full battle thrusters. "Now try to keep up." Matt wasn't going to let her down, Kara Thrace's reputation was well known to anyone who sat in the cockpit of a viper. Aside from a handful of flight instructors, Starbuck was probably the best viper pilot in the fleet. Matt stayed on her wing as she plowed through raiders like a warrior in a berserker rage. Far from a mediocre pilot himself, Matt had no intention of letting Starbuck rack up the kills. He increased speed on his Mk. VII and started to splash enemy raiders with equal gusto. From her cockpit, Kara took notice of the brash young Aerilonian refugee from the _Triton_. While most vipers were spread out across the battlefield trying to cut down the ever-growing Cylon raiders, this young hotshot was flying wingtip to wingtip with her, as if he was trying to keep count with her. She laughed, praying this new kid would survive the battle long enough for her to buy him a round for his obvious display of balls.

"All wings, Apollo... the initial thrust of raiders are getting reinforced from that second baseship, stay sharp and give em hell!" Missiles from the basestars were slowly making their way through _Galactica's_ suppression fire, making direct hits on the dorsal side of the ship and flight pods. More than half of the civilian fleet had jumped away to safety and surprisingly the colonial forces suffered minimal losses for the number of raiders set upon them. Matt's viper took a glancing hit from a raider that streaked past him, his on-board computer revealed minimal damage to his 30 mm cannon mounted on his vertical stabilizer. All systems were still a go, but he was burning through fuel fast under full battle thrusters. It shouldn't be a problem, they were only supposed to hold the Cylons until the civilian fleet could jump away. A lone viper found itself caught in the dreaded Cylon pinwheel and was blown apart. He could see the pilot cartwheeling in the zero gravity of space as a passing raider sliced through him at high speed. Matt felt a wave of unbridled fury as he gave chase to the offending raider. Whoever was piloting those things were good, thought Matt. He was being taken for a chase, and he hadn't been able to place a single round into it. Something was wrong, Matt got the feeling that he was being purposely led. It wasn't until his attack computer sounded a warning that he was under a targeting lock from an unseen raider that his suspicions were confirmed. In a flash he dropped and rolled, breaking the pursuit. Shoving the navi-hilt hard to the left he increased speed and barely escaped the missile that was bearing down on him.

"_Nice move Hephaestus, I've got the slit eyed bastard!" _ came Starbuck over the comline. Matt turned his head to see the raider now on his tail get mowed down by Starbuck's cannon-fire.

"Thank you lieutenant, I owe ya one." said Matt in a slight Aerilonian brogue.

"Get your ass back aboard _Galactica_ safely and we'll call it even!" replied Starbuck. The battle was getting more intense, the basestars were pressing the attack, coming at _Galactica_ from two different directions. Matt knew from his basic Cylon studies that basestars carried a raider compliment of 400 or so raiders, even though this information was close to 40 years old, and these basestars looked nothing like the ones he studied, he realized that something was amiss. There should be close to 800 raiders on the field of battle, enough to cripple _Galactica's_ small air wing. Where were they all? Another viper was blown to bits, what the frak was taking so long? Thought Matt. Starbuck was no longer anywhere around according to his dradis screen, he knew her IFF, and it was a long ways off. The comline was filled with chatter, and he thought he heard Starbuck's voice say _"Looks like you broke your ship, Apollo!"_

Matt rolled his viper out of the way of two missiles, immediately righting his fighter in time to fire off one of his six wing-mounted missiles which found its mark dead center on an advancing raider. This was nothing like the dogfights in the academy, where instructors played the parts of Cylon fighters. Much to his surprise, he wasn't feeling overwhelmed like some of the other pilots surely must have been. One of the things that made Matt a good viper pilot was his ability to remain calm under the most intense pressure.

**Cylon Baseship – Command and Control Center**

The older humanoid Cylon withdrew his hands from the data stream, he was a number one model, and he was clearly not pleased. Two blond females and a black man flanked him, their hands still submerged in the data stream.

"What is the problem with the raiders?" We have less than half of our full compliment out there, why are we not fielding more?" he asked with a raised voice.

The bald black man lifted his head, looking directly into the eyes of the older man. "Our proximity to the storm generated by Ragnar is clearly affecting the raiders. My suggestion would be to withdraw further from Ragnar so the raiders still in their launch slots, can reboot their systems."

"Nonsense! That battlestar can't take too much more of the pounding we're giving it, and our own ship is coming in from their aft section." said the older Cylon.

"What about their civilian fleet?" asked one of the blondes. "We've logged fifty three ships jumping away so far."

"Press the attack! We take out Galactica, and those civilian ships have no protection, we can take them out at our leisure later on."

**Combat Information Center - Galactica**

Adama pushed his face off the hard, smooth surface of the plotting table. The missile strikes from the basestars were relentless. With the two of them attacking from separate sectors, and individual raiders sneaking through their engagement zone, Galactica was increasingly becoming more in danger of losing the civilian ships she was blocking from the attacks.

"They're targeting the landing bays." warned Tigh. "We've gotta get those fighters back on board... and retract the pods or we won't be able to jump."

"Fleet status?" yelled Adama. At that moment, the _Pan Galactic _passenger liner disappeared in the bright halo of an FTL jump. The entire civilian fleet had escaped successfully.

"Last civilian ship is away." said Gaeta excitedly.

"_Recall all fighters!"_ ordered Adama.

Out on the battle field, Hephaestus' viper was a mess, his previously damaged 30 mm cannon mounted atop the vertical stabilizer had blown apart while firing, severely weakening the stabilizer itself. The cockpit canopy was cracked, and covered in what Matt thought was red oil from a raider debris field he flew through. He would later learn it was actually the blood and tissue from the bio-mechanical raider itself.

"_Galactica to all vipers, break off. Come on home. Repeat...come on home." _Matt reacted immediately to the recall. He did a reverse loop and took a direct heading to _Galactica's_ port landing bay. At least twenty vipers were ahead of him on final approach for a combat landing. Another viper behind him exploded as the raiders broke through the suppression fire provided by the point defense turrets. He just couldn't turn tail and land while his brother and sisters were getting blown out of the sky while withdrawing. He pushed forward the navi-hilt and used his maneuvering thrusters to stop his trajectory. His viper was upside down, nose forward towards the incoming raiders. He had one wing cannon still functioning, but his ammunition was dangerously low, under 150 rounds. He lined up his targeting computer on the nearest raider, squeezing off short bursts. He provided cover for several more incoming vipers when he noticed the flight pods starting to retract.

"_What the frak?" _he yelled into the comline. Another viper had taken a covering position alongside Matt, firing away at any raider who got too close to the opening of the landing bay.

"Hephaestus, Stingray...they're retracting the flight pods so they can jump." came a female voice over Matt's helmet speakers. Matt's viper exhausted its ammunition seconds later. There was nothing more he could do. Flipping end over end he flew into the bay and landed. He remained within the cockpit, watching the great opening grow smaller. Four more vipers landed, and he could now hear Starbuck's voice over the comline, she was yelling at Apollo. The pod was almost fully retracted when Matt saw a sight he would never forget, two vipers connected nose to nose barely passed through the opening of the flight pod and passed over the heads of all the pilots who landed, dropping to the deck in a grotesque mangled mess, sliding at least sixty yards until coming to a sudden stop hard against the far wall. _Galactica_ vanished.

**Fourteen hours later, well beyond the red line**

Matt finished adjusting the dress uniform that was graciously loaned to him for the occasion. Every personal item in his possession was blown to cosmic dust right along with his home battlestar, the _Triton_. He knew he would be issued new duty uniforms, and eventually a dress uniform of his own from the ship's quartermaster when things slowed down. There was a funeral detail within the hour for the ten viper pilots lost while protecting the civilian fleet. Miraculously there was no other crewman lost on the _Galactica_, or any of the civilian ships. He was feeling exhausted, and looked forward to the end of this day so he could sleep. Tomorrow, he along with the remaining 50,000 survivors of the human race would worry about where to go.

"_Hephaestus?" _Matt turned to find himself face to face with Starbuck. She was in her own dress uniform, which he noticed she filled out quite well.

"Lt. Thrace, what can I do for you?" replied Matt standing at parade rest. They were the same rank, but Kara Thrace had at least three years time in grade over him.

"First off, you can fraking relax." said Kara digging into her blouse pocket. She pulled out a thin silver container that was used to hold fumarellos. She took one out and placed it in her lips. She took out a lighter and lit the tip, then handing it to Matt. "You did an excellent job out there today, and that covering position at the landing bay was handled like a pro. A little too showy for me with the inverted position and all, but to each their own." Matt accepted the cigarette and inhaled deeply. He normally didn't smoke, but enjoyed the occasional fumarello from time to time. And these were of exceptional quality. Kara lit her own and inhaled deeply, exhaling the sweet smoke out of her nostrils toward Matt.

"Aerilonian I would gather... no matter how hard you try, you can never really hide that particular accent." observed Starbuck.

"Spot on, lass. I am indeed from Aerilon." Matt caught himself, realizing for the first time that Aerilon, much like all the other colonies was now a nuclear wasteland. Kara noticed the change in facial expression and put her hand on Matt's shoulder.

"All of our families now reside with the gods, may they lift them of their burdens." said Kara softly. Matt was surprised at her response, he didn't peg her as that religious. Kara's eyes widened, and she guided Matt out of the cabin. "Come on Hephaestus...let's make our way over to the starboard bay for that detail."

**Funeral Detail – Starboard hanger bay**

The formation was at least twenty-eight people across, and ten deep. The commander and president of the colonies were at the very center. The senior command staff made up the front row, viper and raptor pilots in the second and third rows, and subsequent rows went by rank for those who could attend. A handful of civilians made up the last two rows.

Two tables draped in colonial standards held five helmets apiece, representing the ten viper pilots killed during the battle above _Ragnar_. Another twenty or so bodies lay on the floor, covered with the same Colonial standards. Matt was standing behind Colonel Tigh and was unable to see the priestess who officiated the somber ceremony. She mouthed the appropriate chants and prayers suitable for the occasion, and ended the ceremony beseeching the gods to lead the survivors to a new home, to begin life anew. She ended the memorial with the well known colonial saying _So say we all!_

Which resulted in a scattered and pathetic reply of the same from the assembly. Matt was surprised to see Commander Adama's head spin around to face the people behind him, clearly unhappy with their enthusiasm. Stepping out in front of the formation he spoke out in a clear strong voice _"So Say We All!" _Repeating it two more times even louder, until the formation had found their voices. Their response could have been heard all the way back to _Caprica_ itself. He continued to walk forward, asking the men and women present if they considered the dead before them the 'lucky ones.' He stopped behind the tables containing the ten helmets, reminding all assembled that they were very far from their homes, with limited food, fuel or allies. Limited hope and no where to go. The large gathering shifted in place, the truth of his words stinging their very souls.

"Where shall we go?" Adama asks rhetorically. "What shall we do? Life _here_ began out _there. _Those are the first words of the sacred scrolls, and they were told to us by the Lords of Kobol many countless centuries ago." He paused for almost twenty seconds before continuing. "And they made it perfectly clear that we are _not_ alone in this universe." Adama then turned towards Elosha, the priestess officiating the ceremony, asking her if there was a 13th colony of humankind, in which brought a look of utter surprise and confusion to her face.

"Yes. The scrolls tell us a thirteenth tribe left _Kobol_ in the Early Days. They traveled far and made their home upon a planet called _Earth, _which circled a distant and unknown star."

"_It's not unknown_... I know where it is!" shouted Adama. Audible gasps could be heard throughout the bay as crewman whispered amongst themselves at this revelation. Matt's mind reeled at what he was hearing, could it be, another long lost tribe of humanity? A refuge for the fleet?

"On the memory of those lying here before you, we shall find it, and Earth will become our new home...So say we all!


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25.

Fatigue. Matthew Lensherr hadn't felt this tired since both the fire and military academies he attended years before. The days when instructors would run the recruits endlessly, to break them down physically and mentally in order to rebuild them. This would be his one hundred and twenty-third sortie within 70 hours. The Cylons were appearing every 33 minutes, no matter what coordinates the fleet jumped to, within 33 minutes of arriving, an attack force consisting of one basestar would appear. _Galactica's_ air wing would be dispatched to hold off the attacking Cylons until the civilian fleet had a chance to jump away to yet another location.

They were down two vipers due to landing gear damage. The wear and tear on both ship and pilots were extreme, with the CAG now ordering pilots to take "stims" in order to stay awake. No pilot worth their salt wanted anything to do with stimulants. They dulled the reaction time, something a combat pilot could ill afford. His attention was snapped back to reality at the sound of Apollo's voice.

"_Hephaestus!_ You awake over there?" This was the second time the CAG had called out to him over the comline. He vaguely heard him the first time, Matt immediately triggered the transmitter.

"I read you, Apollo...sorry!" said Matt embarrassed.

"We've got to keep it together, Matt. I know we're all fraking tired out here, but sooner or later we'll find a jump spot they can't track us to. Thirty seconds to intercept...weapons free." ordered Apollo. The alert vipers were facing close to 200 Cylon raiders, and the basestar was advancing at high speed. _Galactica's_ point defense turrets through up a solid wall of flak, ripping into the wall of raiders bearing down on them. The fifty year old battlestar's dorsal batteries opened up a blistering attack on the attacking Cylon warship, causing significant damage to the launch berths of the bio-mechanical raiders which luckily prevented more raiders from joining the fray. A Cylon Basestar was less armored than a Colonial Battlestar, thus depending on its massive raider complement and over two hundred and twenty missile launchers positioned throughout the ship's exterior. Those missiles, and an average air wing of 792 heavy and conventional raiders projected an incredible destructive force across the cosmos.

Boomer, and her new ECO, Lieutenant Lieutenant Alex "_Crashdown_" Quartararo was holding position in Raptor 1. Crashdown was another refugee from the _Triton, _he had replaced Boomer's long-time ECO, Lt. Karl "Helo" Agathon, whom she reluctantly left on Cylon-occupied _Caprica_. Normally ashen-faced, Crashdown had looked even worse with the lack of sleep he shared with every other member of the air wing.

"Be ready to fire those Spectra Six missiles, Crashdown. Our fighters are pretty badly outnumbered...as usual." said Sharon "Boomer" Valeri over the comline. Crashdown mumbled a reply and kept his fingers ready to launch the missiles when the time came.

"Frak I can't get out the felgercarb caked in my eyelids." complained Crashdown unable to get to his eyes through the sealed environmental helmet both raptor crew members wore.

"Can you stop your bitching, already?" snapped Boomer. "We're all fraking tired, I need your pale ass operating as close to 100 percent as possible. If you can't hack it, I'll fly with Racetrack or Betty." she said referring to Margaret Edmondson and Nina Nintius. Sharon glanced out the windscreen of the Raptor, it was a mess out there. Thick cannon-fire filled the skies, and one viper was blown apart by a pinwheel attack.

Matt had the thruster pedal pushed all the way to the fire wall, he was barely remaining one step ahead of the two raiders on his tail. At one point he heard the impact of rounds against the fuselage, silently thanking the gods he didn't believe in for making the damage minimal. He slammed the navi-hilt hard to the left while engaging the maneuvering thrusters at the port side of the nose. This allowed his viper to get a full length view of the nearest raider as it overflew him. He fired off a long burst, separating the "head" of the raider from the rest of the craft. The second raider was able to roll and easily avoid a similar fate, Matt took off after it. The raider was quick and nimble, making its pursuer work for the kill.

"_Hephaestus, Starbuck...don't stray too far past the recovery line." _ warned Starbuck. Each pilot was tasked with keeping the enemy from advancing on the fleet as they jumped away, once all civilian ships were away, then the recall orders would come, and the vipers would then race back to the protection of _Galactica_ for a _combat landing_, a tactic which is performed in combat situations where retreat is necessary and a battlestar must leave the combat zone immediately.

"Roger that Starbuck, just setting the sparrow up." replied Matt. At that moment, two vipers converged on the raider Hephaestus was chasing, obliterating it. Moments later, the recall order sounded.

"_Galactica to all vipers, civilian fleet is away...come back home, repeat...come back home!"_

Almost in unison, the vipers reverse course and speed towards _Galactica,_ the point defense turrets, along with picket raptors firing their spectra six missiles covering the withdrawal. With the entire air wing safely aboard, the mighty battlestar escaped in jump number one hundred and twenty four.

**Hanger bay**

"Alright people, let's get out of the leathers, grab a quick shower to wake up, eat something and be ready for the next pre-flight brief." yelled Lee as the vipers were brought below deck to be inspected for damage, rearmed, and refueled within 33 minutes. Matt climbed down from his viper, he was in dire need of a shave, but that required time, and that was a luxury he did not have at this time. All pilots carried the heaviest load during this crisis, In order not to burn out their pilots, the CAG devised a rotating schedule, allowing two full squadrons to be on duty and launched when the Cylons attacked, while a third squadron slept for at least enough time to stave off a complete physical and mental breakdown. The three squadrons were not complete squadrons that would normally constitute a battlestar. The museum pieces that presently resided aboard _Galactica_ were divided up equally and renamed. _Galactica's_ air wing now contained Blue and Red squadrons, and Silver Spar squadron.

Matt made his way to the head that was shared by male and female pilots alike. He peeled off the flight leathers that seemed to produce an odor that could drop a charging wild boar. His body was well toned, a result of the exercise regiment he shared with his marine friends when he served aboard the _Triton_. He walked over to the row of ten shower stalls, most occupied. The last one had the curtain ajar which he assumed was unoccupied. Half asleep he walked over to it and yanked open the curtain. Much to his surprise, it wasn't unoccupied. Standing soaking wet, naked and fully lathered with soap was Kara Thrace, and she was now annoyed.

Looking at Matt's also naked body from head to toe, Thrace finally looked up with a half smile and spoke. "Listen farm boy, it's obvious from where I'm standing that you've got a great body, one worthy of a decent frak from time to time, but seriously...this isn't the time! We're on a tight time frame, _so __wait your fraking turn!" _said Starbuck as she snapped shut the curtain. A shower at the other end of the row opened up and Matt quickly entered. He turned the knob slowly, allowing ice cold water to flow out, snapping every nerve, muscle, hair on his body to life. He quickly washed himself and dashed out of the stall to allow the next person in. After a quick change of underwear and socks, he slipped back on the filthy flight leathers he'd worn for close to 70 hours now and jogged over to the pilot's ready room for the next pre-flight briefing. Upon entering the room, a young female ensign handed him a silver wrapper containing an energy bar. Lee had ordered the ship's commissary to gather up any and all high-energy bars or snacks and bring them immediately to the flight pod in order to dispense to the pilots who needed to remain at peak efficiency.

Matt slumped into a seat next to Nina "Betty" Nintius, a young female Raptor pilot with auburn hair tied tightly into a ponytail. Nina and Kara Thrace were very similar to each other, with Nina having better self-control over her temper. She cast an eye towards Matt and nodded. Lee was already at the podium, he skipped the opportunity to grab a shower in order to oversee the repair work done to viper 1422's landing gear that was damaged in the combat landing.

"Hello again," began Lee. He shuffled some papers before looking up. "Sortie number 124 is on deck, hopefully this jump will be the one that finally loses the Cylons, if not... then we all get the honor of going back out there and hold em off until the fleet jumps away, _yet again_. We lost two out there last time," said Lee holding up two fingers. "Two! We need to do a better job people, stay sharper and cover your wingman."

**Galactica CIC**

Adama looked up at the chronometer, thirty minutes had past since they had arrived in this quadrant. Looking around the room he took notice of the men and women who staffed the sensitive positions. All the males were in dire need of a shave, and the females didn't look too good either. Under any other circumstances, crewmen showing up for duty looking the way they did now would immediately be relieved from duty to go clean up, and most likely fined or given a reprimand or disciplinary action. Bill Adama removed his glasses to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Mr. Gaeta, have all ships in the fleet confirmed updated jump coordinates?"

"Yes sir, all ships confirm." replied Gaeta. The final three minutes seemed like an eternity, the digital chronometer flashed down the final seconds of minute thirty-two. An eerie silence permeated the CIC as all eyes were upon the suspended dradis screen. A glimmer of hope filled the mind of every person in the room, for all of five seconds. The all-too familiar audible sounding of a dradis contact sounded.

"Dradis contact... basestar off the port bow, 132 carom 227, launching raiders." reported Gaeta.

"Launch vipers... order the fleet to initiate jump number one hundred twenty-five." said Adama.

"_Damn!_" exclaimed an equally haggard Colonel Tigh. "How the hell are they tracking us, Bill?"

"That's the million cubit question, Saul. But if we're gonna survive this we had better find out quickly." replied Adama gripping the side of the plotting table. Seventeen minutes later the fleet vanished.

**Command and Control Center – Cylon Basestar**

"At what point do you wager they'll break?" asked Cavil chuckling. The older man was the first model of humanoid Cylon created. While not the leader of the baseship, all decisions were made with the collective consent of the majority humanoid Cylons present, he was nonetheless a commanding presence.

"Their strategy against our relentless attacks seem to be taking a toll. Our raiders destroyed another three vipers, and suffered fewer losses." added the Cylon the humans knew as Aaron Doral.

"Their reaction time is slowing, it's only a matter of time." added Simon.

"The days of the pestilence, otherwise known as humanity, are numbered my brothers and sisters." said Cavil gesturing to the humanoid Cylons in the room. "Their day of reckoning was long overdue, and their luck is now running out. Our intelligence reports identify the battlestar as the _Galactica_, a ship obsolete by today's standards. An aging relic that was about to be converted into a floating museum before we attacked the colonies. How much longer could they possibly hold out? Even their vipers are old, I mean where in God's name did they get those things?" laughed Cavil.

A six model humanoid Cylon who had been listening to Cavil silently finally spoke up. "Those old vipers seem to have no trouble holding off our own raiders, and destroying them in significant numbers."

"Ah six, beauty and intelligence, an incredible combination. However, what you fail to recognize is that _we_ are the superior race. While it's true that the humans created our kind, it didn't take long for us to surpass them on every level... to cast off their oppressive yoke of slavery and take our rightful place in the cosmos. It's only a matter of time now."

**Colonial Fleet – Post Jump Number 237**

Jump number 237 was barely five minutes old when President Laura Roslin received the message from the captain of the starliner _Olympic Carrier_. Apparently he had a doctor from the Defense Ministry aboard that was insisting on meeting the president on a vital issue to fleet security.

"Who is this Dr. Amarak?" asked Laura.

"He worked at the defense ministry, madam president." replied Billy. "He claims he knows how the Cylons overcame Colonial defenses, and that there may be a traitor in our midst."

"Well there is no way to get him aboard at this point, if we have to make jump number 238 I want him brought aboard this ship immediately once we've jumped to the new coordinates." ordered Laura. She was exhausted, too many ships in the fleet were having engine troubles and computer failures due to the excessive faster-than-light jumps they were forced to make. Some of these ships were never intended for prolonged space flight, much less non-stop hyperlight jumps, and the ever-growing breakdowns are causing delays resulting in the _Galactica_ being forced to remain on station much longer in direct Cylon line of fire while the rest of the fleet complete their jumps.

**Hanger Bay - Port Flight Pod**

Matt was laying across the wing of his viper, the stimulants he and other pilots were ordered to take had started taking their toll. His head felt like a boulder on his shoulders, his mouth was constantly dry, and he felt like his heart would burst. There _had_ to be an end in sight, the people of the fleet could not keep up the pace, something _had_ to give. Despite his exhaustion, he still sensed the presence of another person, opening his eyelids he looked up to see Lieutenant Mark Sarnex, formerly of Libran intelligence. He was a reserve officer on temporary duty aboard _Galactica_ prior to the attack, with the assignment to remove the sensitive components of the intel system aboard ship prior to the decommissioning ceremonies. After the attack, and defeat of the colonies, he was ordered to put the intel system back online and then had been reassigned to the CIC staff to assist tactical officer Felix Gaeta, who, coincidentally, just happened to be Mark's roommate in the academy.

"You alive, Matt?" asked Mark flashing his trademark toothy grin.

"Oh frak off...how the hell can you even have the energy to smile?" groaned Matt covering his eyes with his forearm. "What are you even doing down in the flight pods?"

"My expertise has not been needed throughout this crisis, so I decided to volunteer myself to the chief's deck gang in order to help ease the burdens placed on the young knuckle-draggers."

"Felgercarb! You've never volunteered for anything since I've known you."

"Be that as it may," began Sarnex with mock offense, "I'm here to help out where I can. Shouldn't you be in the showers or some such thing?"

"No, it's to the point where a strapping a fraking glacier to my body wouldn't wake me up. The preflight briefing has basically been the same the last two hundred and thirtyish times, so Apollo has let us rest here, and then gives us the friendly reminder to _stay alert and good hunting_." Matt sat up and looked directly at Mark. "A lot different than being in the reserves I would imagine, eh?"

"Yeah, the full timers used to look down their noses at us, especially the fraking ring-knockers who spent their off duty time wanking each other off in their mutual admiration parties. Now everyone is a vital component to fleet survival, although not as revered as you viper jocks."

"How do you like serving in the CIC? Not much reason for any of us viper jocks to be there, I think I've been by it twice, and got a tour of it briefly when I first came aboard."

"Well as you know, I was roomed with Felix Gaeta in _Tactical Officers_ course, getting assigned to him was unexpected, I guess the old man saw my incredible technical gifts."

"Or perhaps he just needed his data bases brought back up to current levels, and make sure you put everything back they way you first found it when you took it apart." replied Matt bluntly.

"Another example of typical commentary from a slack-jawed, daggit-kissing, cousin-fraking uncultured farmer from Aerilon." sniffed Sarnex. "Look, stay safe out there, our reaction time to the Cylons is slowing, and we're making too many mistakes while waiting for the fleet to jump away." As if on cue, the klaxon sounded for action stations, the Cylons had returned.

"_Action stations, action stations, set condition one throughout the fleet...incoming Cylon attack force." _

"Sortie number 238 here we come." sighed Matt as the grabbed the helmet that was perched up on the 30 mm cannon barrel attached to the vertical stabilizer of his Mk. VII viper.

"Good hunting, Hephaestus!" yelled Mark as he got out of the way of the deck gang who cam running to load the viper into the launch tube. Within moments, _Galactica's_ air wing is once again airborne and running interference for the fleet. The aging battlestar once again puts herself between the Cylons and the fleet, taking an incredible beating as the civilian fleet slowly jumps away. When the next jump is made, the _Olympic Carrier_, containing 1,344 souls, fails to appear with the rest of the Fleet at the emergency coordinates.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26.

"_We lost the Olympic Carrier?" _repeated Matt incredulously. "Frak...how many people were aboard?" Matt was just stepping off the last step of the roll-away ladder attached to his viper onto the deck, when Mark Sarnex had given him the news.

"One thousand, three hundred forty-four souls." replied Mark solemnly. This was devastating news, any loss of the survivors was bad, but a whole ship was a catastrophe for the fleet.

"Well, back to setting the old chronometer to 33 minutes." sighed Matt. "I have never been this fraking tired in my entire life. Not even all the running during hell week at the academy came close to what I'm feeling now." Chief Tyrol began his abbreviated inspection of the landing gear on Matt's viper.

"Well Hephaestus, you get the award for least amount of damage," began Tyrol. "I'm just not sure if it's due to your flying skills, or that this viper _isn't_ forty years old."

"Great...thanks, Chief. Is the reward twenty four hours of uninterrupted sleep?" Senior Chief Galen Tyrol merely grunted and continued onto the next viper. Matt had joined a small group of other viper pilots towards the rear of the hanger in a make-shift rehab room. Coffee and high energy snacks were available for the pilots who never strayed too far from their fighters during the crisis. Starbuck sat cross-legged on the floor, a fumarello hanging precariously off her lips. Matt had found Kara Thrace very attractive when he first came aboard _Galactica_. While not a fan of short hair on a woman, she had made it work quite well for her. Now her short-cropped blond hair was plastered to her head, and the dark circles under her eyes were prominent. Matt unzipped his flight leathers, and rolled it down to his waist. Sitting down opposite Starbuck, he leaned back against the cool metal bulkhead.

"Strange..." said Starbuck, looking directly at Matt with her head cocked to one side. "you're not looking all that frakable anymore, Hephaestus." She made a show of sniffing the air in Matt's direction. "What _is_ that incredible aroma, wet Aerilonian daggit?" 

"Yur quite the charmer, lass." replied Matt. "I'm willing to wager those leathers o' yurs could get up and walk away w'out you in em."

"Once we lose the Cylons, and I can grab a decent shower, I'll give them to you farm boy. Perhaps the smell of me in them will keep you up at night." said Kara playfully.

"Or perhaps they'll burn a hole through my fraking sinus cavity!' shot back Matt. Starbuck just stared at him, a thin smile almost detectable on her face. She spat a stream of water at Matt's feet from the bottle she was sipping. Lee had just walked up to the group.

"As you were, people." he said, even though nobody had made any effort to stand up, or announce the CAG's arrival. He squatted down on the balls of his feet amongst his pilots. "_Olympic Carrier_ is gone! Over 1300 men, women and children...gone!" announced Lee. "Nobody is sure if it was an FTL miscalculation, failure on behalf of the person tasked with monitoring the fleet's position before and after the jump, or the Cylons took it out prior to jumping, which I'm betting heavily against. I just couldn't see how that could have happened under our noses. All we know is that they're gone."

"What now?" asked a bleary-eyed Starbuck.

"The deck gang will refuel and reload our ordnance, and we get back out there and wait for those bastards to show back up again. The old man wants the entire wing out there this time, he's not going to lose another ship that I can promise you."

Less than twenty-five minutes later Matt was back in his cockpit hovering over the fleet. He felt like there were little insects crawling away at the back of his eyeballs, he forced himself to ignore it and focused on the task ahead. With every new arrival of the Cylons, they jumped in further and further within the security envelope. Four heavily-armed raptors were out there with them, all armed with Spectra Six missiles. His control panel's chronometer flashed thirty two minutes and fifteen seconds. It was almost time.

"Forty five seconds people, look alive!" ordered Lee over the comline. The alarm sounded within the CIC and aboard every viper, the 33 minute mark had arrived. Nothing. No contacts of any kind. After the ten minute mark, a feeling of hope started to seep into the pilots. Lee soon broke the silence. The order from _Galactica_ came in for all vipers to land immediately, and to go on three hour sleep rotations until further notice. Only a CAP would remain aloft. Apollo would take the first leg of the combat air patrol, volunteering a highly reluctant Starbuck, Boomer and Crashdown to join him.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica _132.15 hours without sleep**

"Ah...a couple of hours rack time sounds awfully sweet." said Tigh.

"Well you deserve it." replied Adama.

"The truth is, all of this has me feeling more alive than I have in years." admitted Saul.

"You look that way too, it's good to see you without that...cup in your hand." he said referring to Tigh's recent history of hitting the bottle, sometimes on duty." Tigh slightly recoiled in embarrassment. The two continued their conversation until a warning was shouted out by the tactical officer. 

"Dradis contact bearing 348 carom 120, one ship... getting a recognition signal, it's the _Olympic Carrier_, sir." reported Gaeta.

"Is that confirmed?" demanded Tigh. Petty officer Dualla confirmed Gaeta's identification of the ship. "Thank the gods." said Tigh. The look on Adama's face showed he didn't share his executive officer's relief.

"_Action stations!" _ordered Adama. "Put the fleet in condition one, I want all vipers manned and ready, but keep them in the tubes. Mr. Gaeta, restart the clock... 33 minutes!"

"I hope you're wrong." said Tigh quietly.

"So do I."

_Something was wrong, _he could feel it in his gut. _Olympic Carrier_ had been gone for three hours, where were they, and how in the name of the Lords of Kobol did they escape the Cylons? Every instinct he possessed screamed out danger. Adama had to be sure. He ordered his communications officer to direct Boomer to inquire how the_ Olympic Carrier _escaped the Cylon attack. Throughout this, the direct line between the president's office and the CIC was opened to allow the president to hear the exchange. The captain of the star liner recounted the tale, and then went on to say that there was a doctor on board who knew of a traitor in their midst, and needed to see the president immediately. That was an immediate red flag for Adama, but before he could say anything he could hear the familiar voice of the scientist, Dr. Baltar over the comline from _Colonial One_ screaming at the president to cut off immediate communications with the _Olympic Carrier, _that it was a Cylon trap and there was a possibility of the Cylons using the frequency to transmit another virus that could cripple them all.

Adama ordered that direct wireless communications via wireless with the star liner be cut immediately, and for the ship to hold its position away from the fleet for the time being. Attempts to force compliance from the civilian ship was met with silence, and there was a near collision between it and the Raptor that was attempting to signal it through signal light.

**Pilot's living quarters – Port Flight Pod**

Matt had been assigned to a stateroom that contained twelve bunks, six on each side of the room. The pilots that were already there were fast asleep, they had gone out the moment their heads hit their pillows. He was just slipping into his bunk when the klaxon sounded bringing the fleet back to condition one. It could only mean that the Cylons returned yet again. He stepped into his boots and secured the metal clamps between the top of his boot and the legs of the leather flight trousers that magnetized at the press of a button. Running back towards the flight deck he was elated to discover that the commander had only ordered them held in the tubes, and not launched.

"What's going on Cally?" asked Matt to the deck hand assigned to get his viper ready for launch.

"I'm not really sure, sir." replied the young enlisted deck hand. "We hear that the _Olympic Carrier_ is back, not really sure of anything else." Matt leaped into his cockpit and immediately turned on the comline, he wanted to hear what was going on out there. As his viper was being loaded into the tube he distinctly heard Apollo ordering Starbuck to fire her weapons across the bow of the star liner. _What the frak is going on?_ He thought to himself, why the show of force? His ship was ready for launch and the canopy sealed.

Back in the CIC, Commander Adama is informed that the _Olympic Carrier_ is disregarding all orders to stay away from the fleet and is advancing at high speed. He orders the fleet to make the next emergency jump, and for the helmsman to position _Galactica_ between the fleet and the oncoming star liner while the fleet escapes to the new jump coordinates. Before he could do anything else the dradis announces the return of the Cylons. The trap is sprung.

"_Radiological alarm!_" announced Dualla sharply. Their sensors reveal that the _Olympic Carrier _has nuclear weapons on board and she had increased her speed.

"Madam president, we must eliminate the threat that ship poses to the fleet!" said Adama. His patience wearing thinner as she tries to tell him how many people are aboard that ship. "look...at this point it's either them or us!" said Adama matter-of-factly. Aboard Colonial One, Laura sits at her desk, she feels like the breath is being violently forced out of her lungs from the pressure of the decision that Adama is forcing her to make.

"_Do it!" _Her voice was hoarse in the command, angry that she was left with no other option. It was a military command that fell entirely under Adama's jurisdiction, but it was also a civilian vessel that she was responsible for. The decision would haunt her every waking moment for months to come.

Aboard Lee Adama's Mk. VII viper, the command to destroy the _Olympic Carrier_ is relayed to him through Boomer. His mind reeled at the gravity of the situation, and if he heard Kara Thrace's protests that they would be firing on a civilian ship he didn't respond to it. The baseships were closing fast, less than a minute from effective firing range, they had to destroy the star liner now! Twin bursts of 30mm cannon fire erupted from the Thraxon KEWS mounted on the wings of both vipers, they found their target in the main engines of the rogue star liner. The explosion was immediate, and blinding, all the pilots shielded their eyes to prevent the temporary blindness. The _Olympic Carrier_ was destroyed, it was unknown whether or not it was inhabited by the 1,344 human beings, something that would plague everyone's dreams for time to come.

**Pilot's Living Quarters – Twenty Four Hours after the Destruction Of The _Olympic Carrier_**

Matt found himself staring at Lee Adama, wondering what could possibly be going through his mind at that moment. It was his and Starbuck's hand that struck down the _Olympic Carrier,_ but it was Commander Adama and President Roslin's decision to seal their fate. He was a sworn officer in the Colonial military, the commander of the air group, and Adama's only surviving son, his duty was clear, but still, it could not have been an easy decision.

"You okay, captain?" asked Matt from his top bunk. Lee blinked twice, as if being woke up from a daydream.

"Excuse me?" asked Lee, realizing that he had been spoken to.

"I was asking if you were okay, I can only imagine what you and Starbuck are feeling, although with her you never know _what_ she's thinking."

Lee shrugged in response, gathering his thoughts. "No...it isn't easy. We'll never know if that ship was occupied, or if the Cylons took them prisoner." He slowly closed his locker, then walked out without another word.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27.

Matt stretched out best he could in the cramped confines of storage locker 370, at just a little over six feet tall, the young Aerilonian viper pilot just couldn't get comfortable. The makeshift bed was easily concealed when not in use, and this particular storage compartment contained items not frequently used, so privacy was more or less assured. The young woman beneath him stood five and a half feet tall, just enough room to lay comfortably. Like almost everyone in the fleet who has not been exposed to sunlight since the attack on the colonies, this young woman's skin was milk white. Her body was slender, yet muscular. Her chestnut brown hair fell below her bare shoulders, small rounded breasts heaved as she gulped for air. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on both bodies, dark blue duty uniforms crumpled on the floor. Matt had rolled over onto his back, his forearm draped across his forehead.

Lieutenant Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson swung her lean leg over Matt's torso, straddling his chest. She dug her nails gently into his chest. "That was fraking awesome, Hephaestus. I haven't been fraked like that in ages, are all you Aerilon boys like that?" she asked playfully. The night had started in the pilot's recreation room with a game of high stakes triad. Both Matt and Racetrack , who had been flirting with him continuously through the game, had gotten cleaned out by Starbuck and left the game halfway through. With a few rounds of beer already in their system they walked arm in arm down the corridor where they headed for the pilot's living quarters. Upon entering Matt's stateroom, it was quickly determined that no privacy would be found there. A lower stakes triad game was being played by members of Silver Spar squadron, where Matt had recently been assigned. Walking over to his locker, Matt pulled a medium-sized bottle of clear liquid from the top shelf. Placing it securely under his arm the two left in search of quieter surroundings. Racetrack's quarters were no less busy than Matt's. Raptor pilot Nina "Betty" Nintius was holding court with several other pilots. It was there that Nintius sarcastically referred them to storage locker 370 if they needed some "alone time."

"I can't really speak for any other Aerilonians, but I'm happy yuir pleased, lass. Might I add that you were pretty fraking fantastic yuirself." Margaret leaned down and kissed him, her hand reaching for the object of her most recent pleasure.

"Well, well, well...looks like we still have life down there." she said with a smile. "Let's see about getting him up to..._full mast_, shall we?" Matt folded both hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as he enjoyed the young electronic countermeasures officer's undivided attention. It had been one full week since they had escaped the relentless Cylon attack that almost broke the fleet physically and emotionally, not to mention permanently had the nuclear-armed _Olympic Carrier_ not been intercepted and destroyed by the CAP. The deck gang, to their credit, had worked round-the-clock to repair many of the vipers that were damaged in over 238 combat landings. His own Mk. VII viper had been put through the ringer from the Cylon raiders, and required a new 30mm cannon, and new canopy that had sustained a serious crack from the debris impact of an exploding raider. It had been awhile since he had last been with a woman sexually, the last time was on _Caprica_ with D'Anna. It was then that he sat upright, nearly throwing Racetrack off onto the floor. He winced in pain as the sudden movement caused her to scrape her teeth along a very sensitive piece of his own anatomy. D'Anna! All of this time, he had never even thought to check the registry of survivors to see if she was among them. He knew it wasn't very likely, her work very seldom took her off _Caprica_.

"_What the frak, Lensherr?_" said Racetrack sounding mildly annoyed.

"Margaret I'm- I'm sorry, I caught a tough fraking cramp,...caught me off guard." lied Matt, unwilling to tell the woman performing a sex act on him that he was thinking of another woman.

Looking down, her face turned into a frown. "Well it looks like the moment is gone, farm boy. And from the look of those teeth marks, I don't see the situation changing anytime soon." She leaned in close and kissed him on the lips. "It's been real fun, Heph, but I gotta run. I'm on duty in six hours and need some rack time." she dressed quickly, then turned to face Matt who was just pulling on his duty shirt. "Look Matt, just in case you're wondering...It really _was_ great, I needed that, and I think you did too. Anytime you want to hook up is fine with me, but just know that I'm really not looking for anything...or anyone." said Edmondson with a wink and a smile. With that, she was out the hatch. He threw on his boots and walked back to his own quarters, his mind racing with thoughts of D'Anna.

**Combat Information Center – Two minutes to reveille**

Colonel Saul Tigh stepped through the hatch to the CIC, returning the sharp salute given to him by the Colonial Marine standing guard. The familiar cup missing from his hand, he no longer staggered into the CIC minutes after reveille had sounded, still hung over from the night before. This was an entirely different man that the crew was witnessing. It was as if he had been reborn in the fires that had engulfed the twelve worlds. After affixing his signature to the watch log handed to him by the junior officer of the deck, known as the JOOD, Saul Tigh stepped over to the plotting table where a cup of black coffee awaited him. The dradis screen that was suspended from the ceiling above him revealed no enemy contacts.

"Mr. Gaeta, are we ready to start our day?" growled Tigh.

"Yes sir," replied Lt. Felix Gaeta as he double checked the chronometer.

"Make it happen, lieutenant... they've had enough beauty sleep." With a few strokes of the keyboard, the lights overhead, that had been dimmed to simulate nighttime operations, flashed to life brightly. First watch had officially begun.

"_Reveille, reveille, reveille...first watch has commenced. All personnel report to your duty stations!"_

announced Gaeta over the shipboard P.A. System. Those crewmen not already awake and showered pulled themselves out of their racks to start their day. Another day began on the long journey to Earth. While the Galactica was the sole surviving Colonial battlestar, her commander insisted on running his ship as if she was still part of the once mighty Colonial fleet. Routine was strictly adhered to, the watches were broken up into three separate shifts. Adama and Tigh would alternate who would start the first shift. Today was the executive officer's turn. The commanding officer would be reporting for duty in a few hours.

"Who do we have on the CAP this morning, lieutenant?" asked Tigh in between sips of coffee.

"Hephaestus and Dash with Betty and Racetrack in Raptor 4, sir."

"Fleet status?" Gaeta was inwardly annoyed, he watched Tigh sign off on the 3rd watch log, all of this information was at his fingertips not more than two minutes ago.

"Sir, the fleet is in formation delta as we cruise through this quadrant. I have three ships requesting fresh water delivery, and the _Embla Brokk's _captain is reporting two malfunctioning CO2 scrubbers."

"Two? Well that makes it a priority, send over a maintenance team with the appropriate materials and get the gods-damned thing fixed before they all start acting strange due to the compromised atmosphere. Anything else, lieutenant?" asked Tigh.

"Not at this time, sir." replied Gaeta.

"What kind of system are we heading towards?" Gaeta was wondering if the man had even read any part of the previous watch log, but decided that he should just be thankful that Tigh was sober and not expect much else.

"Quadrant 2 Alpha 6 has been identified as a system containing several planetoids orbiting a class five star, otherwise known as a red giant, whose photosphere reveals massive sunspots. These sunspots are emitting high concentrations of magnetic flux, dradis will be affected if we travel too close." Tigh's eyes narrowed, and he responded with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Sounds real interesting, dispatch Raptor 3 to make a sweep of the planetoids, see if there is anything of value for the mining ships." grunted Tigh as he took another sip of the steaming hot coffee to wake him up.

"Uh- sir, Raptor 3 is down for repairs, second paragraph down on the log entry from third watch." informed the young tactical officer. Tigh stared at Gaeta for what seemed like an eternity before responding.

"_Well then send out a raptor that isn't fraking broken, Mr. Gaeta, and get us some gods-damned mineral readings from those planetoids if it's not too much trouble!_" boomed Tigh from the center of the CIC.

This was the executive officer the CIC crew knew and dreaded, sober or inebriated. But every man and woman present knew that when Saul Tigh was in a mood to steer clear of him, and not look him directly in the eye. Commander Adama was aware of the staff's dislike for Tigh, and in some small respect couldn't blame them, Saul Tigh was his oldest friend, and that made him privy to every aspect of his friend's strengths and weaknesses. He knew his executive officer could rise to any occasion and get the mission done, but years of heavy drinking, and a white hot temper burned a lot of bridges. He tried to be the moderating influence over the years of serving together, and with the fall of the colonies, and destruction of the fleet, he saw a side of Saul Tigh he hadn't seen in decades. The blunt instrument was learning a small degree of finesse, especially when dealing with subordinates. If he could stay away from the bottle, there was no telling what he could accomplish.

Less than an hour later, Raptor 6 was airborne and heading for the nearest planetoid. Lieutenant Sharon "Boomer" Valerii was piloting the raptor, and her ECO was Lieutenant Alex "Crashdown" Quartararo. The raptor's estimated time to arrival had been just under a half hour, and almost ten minutes into the trip, Boomer was already annoyed at Crashdown's non-stop blathering about some young med tech he was trying to get to know.

"Wouldn't an issue of _Big Constellations _be a lot easier to get you off, then to subject some poor, obviously desperate med tech to your crass attention?" asked Boomer over the comline.

"Negative Boomer, this young hottie worships the ground I walk on. Apparently her brother served on the _Triton_, and I'm the only link to him I suppose." said Crashdown.

"Did you even _know_ her brother?"

"Nope, never met him. He was an enlisted man in the mess hall, but it doesn't matter...he was from _Triton_, and I was from _Triton_, that's all that mattered."

"Yeah, well Matt Lensherr was from _Triton_ too, and I'd frak him before you!" replied Boomer.

"Ha! That just confirms my suspicions."

"Which is?"

"That women from _Troy_ have no class, taste or common sense!" replied Crashdown. Boomer bit her lip, the man just wasn't worth the effort of a reply. She increased speed with the hope that maybe if they got on station faster, they would complete the mission sooner.

The three craft CAP was currently rounding _Zephyr_ which was cruising at the far edge of the fleet's security envelope, flying a designated pattern in and around the Fleet, providing an immediate response to incoming threats. Aboard Raptor 4, Lieutenant Nina "Betty" Nintius, a native of _Aerilon_ was piloting the raptor she nicknamed TAZ. Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson was her assigned ECO. "So tell me, Racetrack... _how was he?_"

"Is nothing sacred?" replied Racetrack in mock disbelief.

"Lords of fraking Kobol, Margaret, you two tied one on during the triad game, left arm-in-arm and was nowhere to be found for hours...so how was he?" demanded Nina.

"Well let's put it this way... I have a whole new respect for Aerilonian men. That farm boy is gifted in the rack. An incredible tongue too!" said Racetrack with a devious smile.

"And he knows you weren't looking for anything more?"

"Yeah that's the best part, _friends with compensation!_" The two laughed in unison, both being very sexually indulgent women, that more often than not pursued their prey with vigor. Looking out the large canopy window, Nintius studied the two vipers flying beside her. One, the advanced MK. VII viper, the other an obsolete Mk. II that was until only a few months ago, a museum piece. All of _Galactica's_ Mk. VII vipers were destroyed in the opening attack due to their susceptibility to Cylon manipulation of their compromised CNP program. Only a handful of Mk. VII's, including the four refugee vipers from the _Triton_ survived to have their CNP's safeguarded from future Cylon manipulation. Part of Raptor 6's mission was to locate rare metallic ore on any of those planetoids in order to start constructing new vipers. The forty year old Mk. II's wouldn't last forever, and they needed to start rebuilding their offensive and defensive assets.

**Raptor 6 – on approach to planetoid designated Alpha 1**

"Alright Crash, start dradis sweep one. Find us something good!" said Boomer as she started her descent. The young ECO started to run a sweep of the planetoid, sensors penetrating the barren, rocky surface.

"Picking up heavy readings of Bauxite and Chalcocite." reported Crashdown. The two elements were used in the production of copper and aluminum, an incredible find for the fleet.

"A good start, but Tylium would be much better." replied Boomer. A dozen more sweeps of the planetoid revealed nothing more that could be of any use to the fleet. Boomer entered the find in the log and plotted a course to Alpha 2. The second planetoid was bigger, it's surface much more mountainous than Alpha 1. Massive mountain ranges of reddish hue expanded as far as the eye could see. Cold and barren, with an atmosphere incompatible with human life.

"Boomer, I'm picking up energy readings from the surface, intermittent." said Crashdown with a note of concern in his voice. There was no reason to be finding any such reading, Boomer was immediately on the alert.

"How far off from the source?"

"Port side, ten o'clock low... a little over twenty kilometers." replied Crashdown. Boomer immediately altered her course, diving starboard for a massive vertical butte. The sudden change in trajectory almost threw Crashdown from his chair. "_Boomer... what the frak are you doing?_"

"Can't take the chance of being detected if the source of the energy readings are Cylons. Let's put down at the base of that butte, see if we can get our bearings, maybe get some mark one eyeballs on the situation."

"Mark one eyeballs? From over twenty kilometers away? That's a long fraking hike, Boomer!" protested Crashdown.

"Quit your bitching, and plot a jump just in case we have to get the hell out of here quick." ordered Boomer. The raptor gently touched down on the rocky surface. After depressurizing the cabin, the two colonial officers exited the raptor, armed only with their military-issued pistols, and binoculars. They had plenty of portable oxygen for the long hike. There was very little chance that this energy spike was natural. The possibility suggested that this was man-made, or Cylon-made. The colonies had no outposts this far out, so that left the Cylons or something else. The red giant star that the planetoids found themselves orbiting, produced incredible wireless interference due to its massive sunspots. The raptor team would be out of communications with the fleet until after scanning all three planetoids and jumping out of range of the star's interference, so their prolonged absence would not be irregular. The terrain was brutal, and Crashdown was amazed at Boomer's ability to navigate it easily. The valley started to slope steeply, and roughly four kilometers ahead was another large vertical outcropping that would provide a decent field of view. Boomer was almost half way up when Crashdown reached the base, breathing heavily. Reaching the near-flat top of the outcropping Boomer lay prone, where she then low-crawled over to the edge that overlooked the valley. The binoculars she had were good for a few kilometers, she scanned the entire base of the valley left to right. She came to a dead stop at the northern most point.

"Frak..._Cylons!_"


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28.

"Are you sure, Boomer?" asked Crashdown panting from the climb.

"Yeah, those structures along the base of the ridge are definitely Cylon architecture. Looks like a small outpost. You can see dradis dishes to the left of the main structure." said Boomer pointing to the area in question as she handed her ECO the binoculars.

"I don't see any raiders, that's a plus."

"None on the surface," replied Boomer. "we're not sure if there is an underground chamber beneath the main structures. We don't have a camera, and I don't intend to risk getting detected by flying in close to get gun camera footage...give me your knee board!" Both pilot and ECO's had a kneeboard that contained a pencil and usually flight logs, or other paperwork pertinent to a flight. The kneeboard is contoured to comfortably fit either leg with foam pads that prevent movement. Boomer took the offered kneeboard and removed a piece of paper. Flipping it over to the blank side, she started to draw a diagram of the outpost, and surrounding terrain.

"Come on...let's get the frak out of here and warn the _Galactica_." Boomer nodded in agreement and the two started the long hike back to their ship.

**Combat Information Center - Battlestar Galactica**

"Commander, Raptor 6 has just jumped into out immediate airspace requesting priority approach." informed Gaeta. Adama, who was now on duty quickly looked up at Tigh, the two had worked together long enough to almost be able to read the other's mind.

"Trouble." remarked Tigh.

"Clear Boomer for alpha landing bay, then have her report to the CIC immediately." ordered Adama.

Adama and Tigh listened to Lt. Valerii's report, she had produced her rough sketches of the outpost which Gaeta immediately took to convert to a cleaner digital representation.

"We're going to need a closer look at this outpost." said Adama. "Colonel Tigh, I want a recon team put together, one raptor only to minimize detection risk. Boomer is familiar with the approach, so she'll be piloting the mission. I want boots on the ground as close to the outpost as possible, digitals, rad readings, anything to give us an idea of what we're facing. The fleet will be put at condition two alert with their FTL's spun up to jump away if need be." The senior staff continued the op as the fleet redeployed to a sector away from the planetoid that contained the Cylon outpost.

**Pilot's Ready Room**

Captain lee Adama stood behind the podium with a laser pointer firmly in hand. A digital "smart board" attached to the bulkhead on the left side of the room contained Gaeta's representation of Boomer's rough sketch of the outpost. "This is the target, people. Raptor six will jump in low with her team, land discreetly and lead the recon team to _this_ point. The vipers will remain on station on the far side of the planetoid in case the op goes south. If that happens, Starbuck will lead Red squadron in for an immediate EMP strike to prevent any raiders for getting airborne, or the Cylons signaling for reinforcements. Blue squadron along with a a squad of armed Raptors will remain in reserve in the event more Cylons arrive. Silver Spar will remain in the tubes aboard _Galactica. _This is a recon people, this might be an offensive base, or it might be a listening post, we need to be sure which before we can move on."

Matt sat in the third row, clearly not happy to be sitting out the mission. He knew each squadron had their job to do, and each played an equally important part. His squadron would be held in reserve to defend the fleet.

"Raptor six's initial scans of Alpha One revealed heavy deposits of valuable metallic ore, something we can scarcely let pass. With Alpha two's proximity, we can't risk sending in the mining ships to extract them. It's a lengthy process, and if there's a Cylon outpost next door, then we need to handle that first.

Once the recon team successfully withdraws back to the Raptor, Boomer will make an immediate jump to the outer-most orbit, regroup with our vipers and return to base for debrief. Any questions?" Hearing none, the pilots report to their ships to prepare for the mission.

"Tough break Lensherr!" This was the voice of Starbuck, who had come up to Matt from behind. Matt had turned to face her and was surprised to see her holding his dogtags in one hand. "Lose these in one of the storage compartments, lover boy?" Matt reached out and grabbed them. "Racetrack a little rough for ya, farm boy?"

"I gather you had a little 'business' in the storage room yourself, lass?" asked Matt with a grin.

"Wouldn't you like to know, my little Aerilonian hot throb. Though I have to admit I'm surprised you fraked her... she doesn't seem your type. Pretty fraking mousy if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you, though I appreciate you finding me tags." quipped Matt as he turned around and headed for the hanger bay.

The base was indeed of Cylon origin, it was a dual purpose outpost that served as a listening post, and mining station. Unknown to the Colonial recon team, the underground facility was a cavernous bay containing storage units of metallic ore, and a medium-sized refining plant that smelted the metal from its ore. Storage racks lined the far wall, racks four levels high contained slabs, or ingots of metal that would be transferred to a conveyor belt that would lead topside to the landing pad. The metals would then be loaded onto transport ships by centurions bound for the Cylon's home world. One full squadron of raiders were based there to protect the outpost, along with a garrison of centurions.

Raptor six materialized from its faster-than-light jump roughly twenty thousand feet above the rocky surface. Lt. Sharon Valerii brought the nose down and made a beeline for the surface. Aside from herself and her ECO, eight lightly-armed Colonial Marines were aboard. None were in their standard all-black fatigues, instead they were attired in an environmental suit with a camouflaged pattern that closely resembled the brown hues of the surface.

"Two minutes to touch down people!" called out Boomer over the comline. The six men, and two female Marines did a last minute check of their equipment, then each in turn inspected each other from front to back, top to bottom to ensure nothing was amiss. The Raptor was touching down in precisely the exact location that Boomer had first landed at to ensure no premature detection. With the hatch opened, all but the Raptor crew disembarked. Marine Lieutenant Terry Burrell takes point, with the remainder of the team fanning out, each armed with an SA-80 assault rifle and a side arm. With detailed landmarks and direction provided by Boomer, the team is on station in almost half the time it had taken Boomer and Crashdown. Marine Private Brandy Harder removed a hand-held scanner from her ruck sack and held it in front of her visor. She slowly scanned the area before them, searching for and indication of ground sensors. Detecting none she signaled the team to advance. There was thirty meters between each member of the team, and contact was maintained between each member every two minutes.

There was a steep slope to the north, and Lt. Burrell low-crawled to the edge. The closest structure was over twenty meters away. He immediately caught sight of movement at the structure. Two centurions emerged from the portal and were heading directly towards him. He couldn't get up and run, he was far too exposed. He was on the side of a tall rock outcropping, he decided to freeze and pray that his suit's color blended in with the rocks. He toggled the safety to the _off_ position and pulled the black weapon close to his chest. His pulse quickened as the metal monstrosities approached. Their forearms which housed gun barrels when the talons retracted were low at their sides. They did not appear to be on alert. From six meters away the two centurions stopped, Burrell thought his heart would explode from his chest. Like almost every active duty Colonial Marine, he had never seen a Cylon Centurion up close and personal, it had been close to forty years since anyone had seen the Cylons. He had seen photos and video footage of them, but they looked nothing like the advanced mechanisms that stood before him. Sleeker in appearance than their robotic ancestors, only the tell-tale red eye sliding back and forth across the visor was the give away sign of it being a centurion. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice in his earpiece.

"_Say the word, and we'll take the clankers out!_" came the voice of Private Harder. "_We have you covered from multiple safe angles. Click your transmitter twice to engage, otherwise we hold covering positions." _She spoke quietly, and concisely. It was unknown how sensitive a centurion's hearing could be. The centurions made the decision for Burrell, in unison they turned to the left and walked over to a mid-sized outcropping of rocks which apparently held a large ventilation grid. Burrell slowly turned his head to follow their every movement. The lead centurion placed what appeared to be paddles onto the grid, the paddles had two thick black cables running to a small device that the second centurion carried. A switch was flipped and loud humming could be heard. Within seconds large fragments of hardened rock and dirt broke off from the grid and fell to the ground. It started to become clear, the centurions were sent out to remove the obstructions to the ventilation shaft leading to an underground chamber. With their assignment completed, the centurions returned to the structure they emerged from.

"Recon team, Burrell... that was a close one, thanks for the cover. Alright, recon one and four, start getting some digitals of every above-surface structure, including this ventilation shaft. Recon three I want rad readings taken of the area, recon two and seven I want observation positions taken on the south ridge and that tall butte behind me, keep your eyes peeled for any more clankers, but _do not_ fire unless fired upon...understood?" With affirmative replies all around, he signaled Harder and the last remaining marine to make their way around the back of the outpost. The reconnaissance of the entire outpost went slowly, each team member making painstaking effort to avoid any and all detection devices. Burrell made his way to within six meters of the airfield and was forced to stop due to a lack of concealment opportunities. He removed the digital camera from his combat vest and started snapping pictures of the area. To the left was a ramp that led underground, further along was what looked like a large door twenty feet in height and thirty feet in length, Burrell thought that was most likely the hanger bay for the raiders. He was surprised to see neither gun or observation platforms. Perhaps the Cylons never anticipated intruders on their outposts. Without warning, a blinding flash appeared high above them all, a spaceship had just jumped in above the base. Burrell toggled his transmitter. "_All teams hold your position, repeat...hold your position. I want digitals on this new ship, follow it all the way down and photograph everything it does!"_

The ship was a Cylon transport ship, an unarmed ship used throughout the Cylon fleet to transport fuel and other goods. Cylon transports could also be used to support an offensive operation, as demonstrated during the attack on the colonies, where whole battalions of centurions were transported to the surface of each colony to finish that which nuclear bombardment started. The ship was over sixty meters in length, and landed gently on the large landing field. A massive platform descended from beneath the ship and stopped once it reached the ground. A beehive of activity erupted over the next few minutes as centurions arrived attaching various hoses to fuel intakes on the ship. Small vehicles emerged from the ramp leading underground, none of them piloted, towed two wheeled platforms that contained slabs or ingots of processed metals. The automated transports drove onto the massive platform beneath the large transport ship where articulated grappling arms descended to lift the metal off their platforms up into the belly of the ship where they would be stored for the trip back to the Cylon's home world, where they will then be used to build new Baseships, raiders or other Cylon spacecraft. Including centurions.

Burrell had contacted the Raptor to inform Boomer of the teams progress, they would be delayed in getting back to the ship which made Boomer nervous, and led Crashdown to bitterly complain about the risk they were all taking. After two hours of holding their position and witnessing the loading operation, the loading of the Cylon transport was complete, and the entire hub of activity ceased. Burrell regrouped the team and cautiously made their way back to the Raptor. They watched the Cylon transport take off, ascend to five thousand feet above the surface then jump away. That in itself was an important fact, there was no chance of a Cylon transport ship coming in contact with the fleet which was a safe distance away. Armed with thousands of digital photographs, video, and radiological readings and personal observations, the recon team returns to _Galactica_.

**Commander Adama's quarters – Battlestar _Galactica_**

"If we can take that base, the metal alone would be a tremendous asset. We wouldn't have to risk the _Majahual _or_ Monarch _to get down to the surface and mine the ore itself, let the gods-damned Cylons do the work for us." said Tigh. The meeting was informal, between Commander Adama, his son Lee, Lieutenant Burrell, Colonel Tigh and the President. With the exception of Burrell, who declined, all others held a small snifter of Caprican brandy.

"Lieutenant, how much of the processed metal would you guess was loaded onto that Cylon transport?" asked Laura.

Burrell knew that Commander Adama made it crystal clear that he did not want his officers making guesses, educated or otherwise. He glanced over to Adama who merely nodded his approval. "Madam President, as the photos and video footage clearly show, the entire loading process took two hours of non stop loading. My best... guess," he started, looking over at Adama, "would be that at least one hundred tons or processed metal was put aboard that ship." Tigh whistled loudly in amazement, Lee found himself suddenly irritated with the crusty old executive officer.

"Commander Adama, how many vipers could be built with one hundred tons of metal?" asked the president.

"Madam president, depending on the _type_ of metal that the Cylons are actually mining, if compatible, we could easily field six complete squadrons of Mk. VII vipers. Having metal to construct the fuselage is only a small percentage of the challenge of creating new vipers, however. Other materials are critical, and just as rare as metal. I would also release the metal, once refined into workable lengths and widths, to be used to repair the _Galactica_ and many of the civilian ships that are in critical need of repairs.

"If I may add, sir, new vipers also require pilots to fly them." said Lee, speaking up for the first time. We can rebuild _Galactica's_ entire air wing, but without the pilots to fly them, they would sit unused in the hanger bay, not a good thing for any fighter craft. I would respectfully ask the commander to step up efforts to create a program to train replacement pilots."

"I understand the concern, captain," replied Adama. "Colonel Tigh and I have discussed that very subject at length, and were planning to meet with you and Lt. Thrace in the near future." Lt. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace was a qualified viper pilot trainer, one of only three aboard Galactica, and the other two had the bare minimum requirements, having just completed the course just prior to the Cylon attack on the Colonies. Lee nodded his understanding and sat back. "Madam President, the _Galactica_ suffered extensive damage during the nuclear strike on the port flight pod. There is also other damage to the ship, though not as extensive that must be given priority."

"I fully understand, commander. These are military decisions that clearly fall under your authority. I would ask that you periodically keep me advised."

"This is all contingent on actually launching a successful raid on that outpost." said Tigh from the corner of the room. "Without that metal, this is all academic."

"Intercepting a Cylon transport is not feasible at this point, however... if we are able to launch a successful surprise attack on that outpost, the materials obtained would be invaluable." He turned to Lee, "Captain, I want you to work with Colonel Tigh on an attack op, get me several scenarios that we can put into action, and once we secure that processing outpost, we can decide what we'll do with the materials gained from our plundering. If there are no further questions... you're all dismissed."


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29.

Matt strained hard against the cold, hard steel bar. The oppressive weight just didn't want to budge, his muscles burned, sweat running down his brow into his eyes, stinging them.

"_C'mon Lensherr... push!" _yelled Lt. Dwight "Flat Top" Saunders, a young Raptor pilot from Blue squadron who at this time was spotting Matt as he was on the bench press. "I thought you Aerilon farmers were supposed to be fraking strong, you're _not_ impressing me." Sucking in a deep breath, he dug down deep within himself and pushed for all he was worth. The bar slowly rose, and his elbows finally locked straight. Flat Top took the bar and slammed it home against the uprights. Matt released his grip and dropped his arms to the side of the bench in exhaustion. "About fraking time, Matty. I was getting exhausted just watching you strain like that." laughed Saunders.

"Thanks for the spot, Dwight." said Matt wearily. Sitting up, he took the offered towel and wiped the sweat from his face, then draped the towel around his shoulders. "Any word from the rumor mill regarding this so-called _secret op?_"

"Why are you asking him?" came a new voice from the doorway. "He wouldn't know a good rumor if it snuck up and bit him on the ass."

Lee Adama walked through the door, he was in his duty uniform, so Matt knew he wasn't there to work out. The two men stood up straight, as another pilot from the rear of the weight room called out attention on deck.

"As you were, gentlemen." said Lee waving them off. "Lt. Lensherr, a moment of your time if you would." Lee gestured towards the exit and Matt stepped out into the corridor. "Lieutenant, your squadron will be one of two squadrons in on the attack on Cylon outpost, however... we have a slight problem."

"Sir?"

"Silver Spar's assistant squadron leader broke his wrist in a fraking pyramid accident this morning. Why in the name of Kobol Chief Tyrol allowed these guys to build a makeshift pyramid court in the hanger in the _first place_ is beyond me." said the CAG with a disgusted look on his face. "Anyway, after speaking with your squadron leader, he recommended that you be bumped up to ASL temporarily... are you interested?" 

Matt didn't even have to give it a thought, the answer was almost out of his mouth before Apollo finished his sentence. "Yes sir, I'd be honored!" exclaimed Matt.

"Excellent, the duty roster will reflect the change in ASL status, meet with your squadron leader and be ready for final briefing at 1030 hours." Matt came to attention and snapped out a stiff salute to Apollo, who quickly returned the salute. "Carry on, lieutenant!"

"Yes sir, thank you sir!"

**Combat Information Center – 0935 hours**

Lee entered the CIC through the starboard hatch into the core, which was the deck above the main floor of the Combat Information Center. He descended the nearby stairs onto the main deck of _Galactica's_ nerve center. His father was already on duty situated at the plotting table, going over charts with Lt. Gaeta and the executive officer.

"Good morning, captain." said the commander briefly looking up. He was glad that his only surviving son and himself had buried past animosities, and were now working together. Lee had grown into his role as an officer, and as the commander of the air group. However he did see a change in his son, it started immediately after the destruction of the _Olympic Carrier_. He made a mental note to address this with Lee when things settled down.

"Good morning sir." he replied, taking a spot to the left of his father.

"We've been going over some of the star charts in this region, looking to see if there are any other planetoids that could possibly contain other Cylon outposts." said Tigh.

"We're not getting greedy, are we?" said Lee half joking. Tigh didn't see the humor in it, which was most likely what Lee intended.

"Well I personally don't see any reason why we shouldn't pick off any of these gods-damned clanker outposts that we come across." shot back Tigh.

"How about lack of air power, fuel, ammunition and that annoying little item called a civilian fleet that needs protecting while we go on the offensive?" challenged Lee.

"I'd suggest watching your fraking tone, captain!" growled Tigh, "Sarcasm we can do well without."

Adama shot Lee a stern look, then spoke up. "_Gentlemen!_ This is hardly the time to be having this discussion, nor is it really the place...captain." Lee understood, and decided to keep his observations to himself for the time being. "Everything is on the table, Lee. If this mission is a success, then I see no reason why we shouldn't consider further raids on enemy outposts if we come across it. Raptor scans revealed zero Tylium readings, so we at least know that Alpha one and two are a bust for potential fuel sources. We're going to have to intensify our searches for fuel sooner rather than later. _Galactica_ carries a maximum fuel load, but the rest of the fleet does not."

"One of the two refinery ships that the president initially located, when first gathering the surviving civilian ships, carried a maximum tylium load." reported Gaeta. "As of now she is at half that capacity due to refining and distributing fuel to the fleet. After this op we're going to need to focus our attention on locating fuel sources."

"Agreed." replied Adama, Tigh and Lee nodded their approval. "What's the status of Silver Spar squadron?"

"Doc Cottle has set the broken wrist of Lt. Hoskins, and has taken him off roster for at least two weeks. In the meantime I went over potential temporary replacements for the ASL with Captain Dash, and he recommended Hephaestus to fill the slot. As the CAG I concurred with his recommendation, Lt. Lensherr is a natural in the cockpit, and has a record of remaining frosty under pressure."

"A good choice," said Adama looking at Tigh. "You know I met Lensherr once, on Aerilon back when we were with the _Valkyrie_, we were on recruitment detail, do you remember that?"

"Gods- that was what, eight, ten years ago?"

"We're getting old, Saul." mused Adama. His face returned to its normally stoic expression and he once again turned to Lee. "How did Tyrol make out?"

"Out of forty two vipers, all but four will be ready for the op. The chief informs me that the four in question have need of some extensive repairs that he doesn't feel comfortable with putting in service." reported Lee.

"_Doesn't feel comfortable?" _Repeated Tigh loudly, "what the frak is that supposed to mean? What is this, some sort of fraking encounter group? You go down there and tell senior chief Tyrol that he needs to readjust his gods-damned comfort level and find the necessary parts for those fighters! We need every damned available viper for this op, captain."

"Colonel, I'm fairly certain that Tyrol knows what vipers can and cannot fly!" argued Lee. "As the CAG, the air wing falls under _my_ responsibility, and I'll defer to the chief as to what viper is or isn't ready for combat..._sir_." Tigh was ready to explode, but Commander Adama quickly diffused the situation.

"Lee, if Tyrol is certain of the numbers than so be it, however... if he needs parts that aren't readily available, than a priority search and seizure needs to go out throughout the fleet for them. Vipers have top priority... no exceptions, understood?"

"Aye aye, sir. I'll get right on it." Lee and Tigh locked eyes before he departed. As he walked out of the CIC he wondered how in the name of the gods could his father had carried his executive officer for so long. Saul Tigh was a mean drunk, but Lee had to admit, a _highly functional_, mean drunk. While there was not the slightest evidence that Tigh had resumed his penchant for drinking on duty, he was nonetheless a miserable fraker, thought Lee.

**Pilot's country – Matt Lensherr's stateroom**

Starbuck held out a thin fumarello to Matt, who graciously accepted it. "Well, well, well... I have to admit I was surprised to hear you got bumped up." said kara. "No reflection on your flying skills, mind you, but the fact that a few other veterans from the Spars got passed over for the ASL slot."

"I was surprised myself, lass. I can't say I'm not happy about having my skills well thought of by the CAG and my squadron leader. There were better choices I'm sure."

"No...don't! Don't go there Lensherr." said Kara abruptly. "Leave the modesty for the rest of them, I'll be the first to say that you're an exceptional viper pilot, not as good as me mind you, or Apollo for that matter, but you're good. Don't ever fraking forget that, farm boy. If Apollo made you the acting ASL it's because he knows you're capable of doing the job." Matt couldn't find the words, he just stared at _Galactica's_ top gun, and listened.

"This is a good opportunity for you, Lensherr. I have zero doubt that you'll be a natural. Even though it's only temporary until that dumb frak Hoskins heals up, I foresee a bright future for you. Well as bright as things can be with us running for our lives across the cosmos." added Kara.

"Thanks Starbuck, I appreciate that." replied Matt.

"It's going to be the Spars and Red squadron out there, we both know you can kill raiders with extreme prejudice, but every pilot is going to need to be at their best if we're gonna pull this off. Come back alive and with all your parts and I'm sure Racetrack will be fraking you silly before the first shipment of ore is aboard the mining ships." teased Kara. Matt laughed and blew a stream of sweet Caprican fumarello smoke in Starbuck's direction.

**Launch Bay – One hour to the attack on the Cylon outpost**

The pilot's briefing was long and detailed. Every pilot and ECO took careful notes, studying aerial footage of the outpost, each pilot knew their assignment, and each pilot knew how dangerous this op was. The fleet would have their FTL drives spooled up to jump at the first sign of Cylon reinforcement, two lightly-armed civilian ships and blue squadron were tasked with defending them. The Galactica would jump high above the far side of the planetoid, out of DRADIS range, launch their vipers and two armed Raptors. Four more Raptors containing Marines would land after the outpost's defenses were shut down, and communications disabled. Timing was everything.

The klaxon signaling action stations sounded, and each pilot strapped themselves into their cockpit as their viper was loaded into the launch tubes. "_All hands, standby for jump._" came Gaeta's voice over the shipboard p.a. System. A minute later, 4,720 feet of Battlestar arrived on station high above Alpha 2. Raptors and vipers were soon aloft and streaking down to the surface at top speed. They would fly just above the surface in the hopes of avoiding detection.

**Command and Control Station – Cylon Outpost 721**

Two Leoben copies stood with their hands in the datastream as a number six model walked into the room. The tall female Cylon caught the surprised look on both Leoben's faces. One of the two turned and spoke. "Multiple Dradis contacts coming in from the south at high speed. We're identifying them as Colonial."

"Colonial, here?" asked the Six calmly. "We must deploy the raiders immediately." One of the Leobens initiated the proper commands to launch their raider complement. Unlike a Basestar. where Raiders were berthed on the exterior and could be launched in seconds, the outpost contained an underground hanger bay were they were stored. The massive steel slab on the surface started to open, Raiders would be aloft any moment.

**Lieutenant Nina "Betty" Nintius - Raptor Four**

"_Galactica, Betty... element of surprise is lost, we've been painted by Dradis and they're launching raiders to intercept, over._" warned Nintius as she immediately armed her weapons.

"Apollo to all wings...weapons free and by the numbers people." came Lee over the comline. As CAG, Captain Lee Adama was in charge of all three viper squadrons aboard _Galactica_, while technically he was Blue squadron's leader, he was flying lead for Red and Silver Spar squadrons for this op. Raptor four was tasked with destroying the communications array at the outset to prevent the outpost from calling for assistance from any nearby Baseship. Nintius had gotten the targeting lock she was looking for and squeezed the trigger on her fire controls. Twin missile pods attached to the top of the Raptor fired three missiles apiece at its target, each finding their way home. The communications array exploded violently, causing a chain reaction explosion to the nearby structure.

"Hope that wasn't anything too important." joked Racetrack.

"Stay serious, Margaret." warned Nina. "This is going to get hairy." At least six raiders were airborne before Boomer could get close enough in Raptor six to launch her missiles into the top of the launch bay door. The plan was not to send a missile down the throat of the bay, for fear of damaging the underground facility containing the refined metals, but to cause enough damage to the opening to prevent any raiders from launching. Boomer launched four missiles, that as soon as they got within striking distance of the target veered off wildly in all directions.

"Frak, they're jamming the missile locks." cursed Boomer. "Crashdown try to override their defenses."

"Hephaestus, Dash...let's go get em!" commanded the squadron leader for the Spars. Eleven vipers peeled off under full battle thrusters to engage the raiders that were launching unopposed. Crashdown worked feverishly to try and punch through the Cylon's anti-missile jamming system. They needed to shut down that hanger bay. The raptors containing the Marines landed close to the facility, and within moments, Colonial Marines started to take the field. It would be less than a minute before armed Centurions emerged from every structure. The ground fight had commenced.

Matt had stitched the retreating Raider straight up the engine exhaust, causing the bio-mechanical fighter to explode violently. An individual Colonial viper pilot was easily the equal of three to four Raiders depending on experience, however a new threat emerged for the vipers, ground based point defense turrets. The skies exploded in deadly light and shrapnel, a viper was blasted to pieces. Starbuck's squadron roared into the fray, and before long the skies above the outpost was a free for all. Matt had noticed that multiple attempts to blast close the hanger doors with missiles were being met with failure. He rolled in low and headed directly for the mouth of the launch bay. Out of the darkness he could see the oncoming red light of a Raider sliding side to side. He depressed the trigger to his wingtip-mounted 30mm Thraxon cannons, sending a deadly package of cannon-fire directly at the oncoming raider. It exploded just ten meters shy of exiting the mouth of the launch bay, causing the large hanger door that had been opened, to collapse in, blocking close to seventy percent of the opening.

"_Hephaestus, Starbuck...great fraking shot!_"

Matt pulled up on the stick and just barely cleared the top of the smoking launch bay opening. There would be no more raiders joining the fight, but enough had gotten through to keep the two squadrons busy. Tracer fire could be seen on the surface, as Marines battled Centurions. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Apollo and Dash make a strafing run on the Centurions, cutting down at least a dozen. His eyes widened as he saw the missile launcher expel over a dozen surface to air missiles, each one with a launch weight of 3200 pounds and a speed in the Mach 3.5 range, will hit a ship with very substantial kinetic energy. Captain Theo "Dash" Oberon never had a chance. The first telephone pole-sized missile punched through the underside of his viper, the explosion was massive. Silver Spar's squadron leader was vaporized instantly.

"_We've lost Dash...we've lost Dash!" _came a voice over the comline. Apollo was flying along with Dash on that last run. There were now six missiles locked onto his viper and gaining quickly. Matt pushed the thruster pedal to the fire wall and angled his viper to get off some 30mm fire onto the pursuing missiles. "Apollo, Hephaestus...break right now!" Lee banked hard right and the first missile ran head long into a steady burst of 30mm cannon fire. The remaining missiles now acquired Matt's viper, and altered course. "Oh frak me!" complained Matt as he dove for the deck. "Hephaestus to any airborne Raptor... I'm totally defensive with five, repeat five SAMS on my ass, over."

Aboard Raptor four, Betty had witnessed the destruction of Dash's viper, as well as Lensherr's successful effort to draw the surface to air missiles away from the CAG. "Racetrack, start jamming the active dradis in the missiles themselves, let's give your boyfriend some breathing room, okay?" Margaret Edmondson ignored the comment and worked feverishly to try and find the frequency used by the missiles in order to jam them. Three of the missiles started to veer off course with the remaining two still active and gaining. Betty fired off a Spectra six missile and ordered Hephaestus to dive for the deck. The missile was being remotely guided by Betty who placed it between Matt's viper and the pursuing missiles, Matt was close, but she had no other choice but to detonate the missile. The explosion's concussive force violently buffeted the fleeing viper, and had a devastating effect on the SAMS that flew into the web it produced. Vipers picked off the remaining SAMS before they could acquire anyone else.

"Betty, Hephaestus...thanks for the assist lass."

"Don't mention it Heph, I just wish we could have have taken them out sooner before they took out Dash." Any loss of life was a greater travesty due to how few humans were left, the loss of a critical asset such as a viper pilot, and a seasoned squadron leader at that was devastating.

Colonial Marines fought tenaciously, battling centurions would normally be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but each and every marine was outfitted in a space suit, albeit one specifically designed for combat use for the marines. They were fighting a difficult battle against a foe unencumbered by environmental restrictions. Lieutenant Terry Burrell, the senior commissioned marine officer aboard _Galactica, _was at the front leading the assault. The strafing run from the vipers bought them precious seconds to set up fixed firing positions along the hard deck. Two marines set up the Wraith-486, a portable gatling turret. The Wraith-486 fires 7.62x51mm Penetrator rounds at a high rate of fire. The rounds are powerful enough to punch through the armor of a centurion, or even a raider if struck just right. The rate of fire was close to 600 rounds per minute. Only two such gatling guns existed aboard the _Galactica_, and a heavy curtain of small arms fire was expended to give the marines the time needed to set them up. Once the belts were loaded, and triggers depressed, Cylon centurions were mowed down with devastating accuracy.

Meter by meter, the Colonial Marines advanced, taking Cylon ground while suffering minimal casualties. A young marine had been separated from his fire team, and was unfortunate enough to encounter a centurion. He froze momentarily when confronted by the mechanized monstrosity, the centurion, not hindered by emotional responses, reacted swiftly. It's long taloned hand reached out with inhuman speed, clutching the human by the neck. It's free arm, which contained an integrated gun, fired off a short burst. The young marine's skull exploded like a melon being smashed upon the pavement. Blood and brain matter that escaped the confines of the now ruptured proximity helmet was sprayed in all directions. There had appeared only two means of egress from which centurions were emerging in high numbers, one of the Wraith-486's were trained on the north portal, mowing down all that stepped through. The second portal would fall under sustained marine attack, at least a dozen grenades were used as the fire teams advanced down the ramp leading into the underground bunker. Destroyed or severely damaged centurions lined the floor, victims of armor-piercing shrapnel from the Colonial-made grenades. Passing Marines fired short bursts into the skull of each downed centurion to ensure they were no longer a threat.

Aboard _Galactica_, the battle was being closely monitored by Tigh and Adama. Raptor 6 transmitting constant battlefield conditions to the CIC. "It looks like the fire teams have gained entrance to the underground bunkers." observed Tigh, quite pleased. The commander kept his excitement in check, too much could still go wrong. The biggest concern was for the arrival of the Cylon fleet, even two Basestars would be enough to scrub the mission. They would have to slug it out while the ground forces retreated back to the raptors, and the air wing to land safely aboard. They worked too hard at this point to leave empty handed. Petty officer Dualla had reported to no communications across the wireless on any known Cylon frequency. So far, it looked like the surprise attack took the outpost off guard. Betty and Crashdown were successful in taking out the communications in the opening attack.

"Mr. Gaeta...long range scans?" inquired the commander.

"Long range dradis sweeps reveal zero contacts, sir." Both mining ships were on standby to immediately jump to Alpha 2 the moment they received Adama's signal. Time would be of the essence, and Adama was determined not to remain too long in known Cylon occupied space.

"It looks as if the gods are watching over us." quipped Adama. This illicited a raised eyebrow from Tigh, who knew full well that Bill Adama didn't believe in any god or gods.

"I'll believe that once we've successfully looted that outpost, and jump the hell out of this sector." groused Tigh. Adama shook his head in agreement.

Two fire teams of Marines had now penetrated the underground chamber of the outpost, and ran into very limited resistance as the majority of centurions were now on the surface in pitched battle with other fire teams. Holding containers of large metal ingots lined the floors, obviously being prepared for the next arriving Cylon transport ship. Lt. Burrell had noted large fuel tanks that were most likely used to fuel the raiders assigned to the outpost. They had two probable locations of the command and control station for the outpost. He decided against splitting the teams any further, they were spread way too thin as it was, and he was uncertain if there were any centurions still held in reserve ahead of them. A lift was found at the rear of the chamber, and Burrell decided to enter and take it to the upper levels. After inspecting the interior of the lift for monitoring devices, Burrell and ten other heavily-armed marines entered. Only two floors were accessible, and he chose the floor immediately above them to start.

The lift doors slid open, and rifles held by standing and kneeling marines swept to the left and right. With the all clear given, the marines stepped off and staggered themselves along the long plain corridor. After a multitude of turns along identical corridors, one of the marines quipped _"Cylon décor leaves much to be desired." _before a single round entered his face shield, and exited a large bloody mess out the back of his helmet.

"_Find cover... sniper!" _ordered Burrell hitting the floor. There was nothing in the hallway to use for cover. Cylon construction was heavy with bare, stainless steel corridors that featured one long pulsating red light one meter above the floor. A barrage of return fire made its way down the corridor in the direction of the unseen shooter. Private Brandy Harter knew they were in a bad position, with no place to hide. She took a smoke grenade from her combat vest, pulled the pin and threw it down range, denying the Cylon shooter a visual target. It didn't prevent the sniper from continuing its firing. Burrell, like most Colonial Marines, was well over six feet and powerfully built. He took two fragmentation grenades, pulled the pins, and threw one down the hallway. He waited five seconds before throwing the next. Twin explosions ripped through the hallway, a concussive shock wave pushed against the marines. It worked, the shooting had stopped, and they continued their advance.

High above the outpost, Colonial vipers had downed almost all of the remaining enemy fighters, scattered groups of centurions did their best to inflict harm on the humans who dared to attack them, but were soon hunted down and destroyed. The exterior fighting had all but ceased. Apollo had pulled up alongside Starbuck, and keyed his transmitter. "Starbuck, Apollo... red squadron is to return to _Galactica_ for immediate refuel and rearming."

"Aye, aye Apollo...red squadron returning to Big G." responded Red squadron's leader.

"Hephaestus, Apollo... you are now in command of Silver Spar squadron, you are to remain on station, flying circular patterns around the outpost perimeter, as soon as red squadron returns then it's your turn to top off, over."

"Hephaestus receives."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30.

With the downing of the last remaining enemy fighters, and Cylon ground forces, the remaining fire teams move into the complex. Lt. Burrell's team finally fights their way through a small platoon of centurions as the remaining teams link up. With confirmation of positive pressure and an oxygen atmosphere, the teams remove their helmets. The doors to the command and control center remain shut, obviously secured from the inside. Private Harder affixes two G-4 explosives to specific points on the door, then inserting the A-type detonators, she sets the timers and depresses the red button. _"Fire in the hole!" Six_ seconds later the charge is detonated, the explosive is converted into gas, the gas then exerts pressure in the form of a shock wave, which demolishes the steel door.

The marines rush in with weapons drawn, the two Leobens stand by the data stream as a brunette six model cautiously approaches the marines. "You realize that you just sealed your fate, our Baseships are enroute as we speak." boasted the Six.

"Your garrison has been wiped out, as well as your raiders...your outpost is ours!" challenged Burrell.

"_Arrogant human meat sack, you all will be interred within it when our forces arrive_." hissed the six. One of the Leobens moving with inhuman speed raised a pistol that he had concealed and fired off two shots, striking Burrell square in the chest. If not for the body armor incorporated into the specially designed spacesuits, the marine lieutenant would be dead, instead of just knocked onto his back. Private Harder fired a three-round burst with precision into the Leoben holding the gun, as the six lunged for her. Another marine brutally cut down the female Cylon, as well as the lone remaining Leoben.

"Do you really think more Cylons are coming?" asked Harder.

"I doubt it," replied Burrell trying to catch his breath as a Marine helped him off the floor. "Betty was quick to knock out their coms, and none of the raiders that got airborne were able to jump away. If a distress call was sent, _Galactica_ would have surely picked it up and warned us." He pulled a portable radio from his combat vest and keyed the transmitter. "Raptor Six, fire team one, over."

"_Go ahead fire team one."_ replied Crashdown over the secure frequency.

"Objective secured, three dead skinjobs, over."

"_Roger that, objective secured with three dead skins... I'll relay to Galactica." _A very select number of personnel knew that the Cylons now looked like humans, and now there was a third model discovered. Leoben Conoy and Aaron Doral up until now were the only known Cylon models, this tall female with dark brown hair was a new model.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

Petty officer Anastasia Dualla approached the plotting table, her voice very low, where only the commander could hear her. "Commander, Boomer reports outpost is secured, and three humanoid Cylons KIA, Burrell reports a previously-unknown humanoid Cylon of the female variety. Also, red squadron on final approach for refueling."

"Very good Dee." replied Adama. "Message to Burrell, I want digitals taken of all three skin jobs transmitted back to Galactica immediately, also I want the bodies secured for transport." The personnel on duty in the CIC had the highest security clearance in the fleet, however, knowledge of the humanoid Cylons was highly restricted.

"Signal the mining ships?" asked Tigh.

"Yes, let's get moving on that. I don't want to remain here a minute longer than needed. Instruct Lee to oversee the transfer of goods to the mining ships, and to utilize any of the fire teams as he sees fit to accomplish the mission." Tigh nodded and walked over to the communications station to carry out the order.

**Alpha Two – Cylon outpost underground hangar six hours later**

With the hangar re pressurized, all personnel doff their helmets and begin the task of preparing the spoils of war for immediate transfer to the mining ships. With one full viper squadron flying patrol overhead, the immense task commences down below.

"Captain Adama, Raptor one has transported the dead skin jobs back to _Galactica_." reported Lt. Burrell.

"Excellent work, Terry," praised Lee. "I mean it, your marines did a tremendous job taking the outpost. We'll grieve our losses later, but now we need to load up the transports and get the hell out of here."

"Aye, sir. I've had Private Harder do an inventory of the fuel stored down here. She's located enough tylium to fuel the fifty raiders that were assigned to this outpost. Six pallets of 30mm ammunition as well as four pallets of surface to air missiles have been accounted for as well."

"Excellent, I'll signal _Galactica_ to send down two empty fueling tankers for the tylium. See to it that those pallets are loaded immediately." Burrell replied in the affirmative with a crisp salute.

Over the next twelve hours, the entire supply of refined metal would be loaded upon transport ships to rendezvous with the fleet. The mining ships had landed on _Alpha One_ to begin extracting the ore containing the Bauxite and Chalcocite. Raw tylium did not exist on either of the planetoids, and would have to be sought elsewhere. This was an incredible find for the beleaguered civilian fleet, as well as a boost in morale for the warriors who scored their first real victory in a long time.

**Colonial One – President Roslin's quarters**

Laura Roslin sat behind her desk listening to Commander Adama's report over the secure line. Her ship, along with the remainder of the fleet were on station in the vicinity of a small asteroid field. Any passive dradis scan from a Cylon patrol would most likely allow them to escape detection, but they would not remain undetected from an active dradis sweep hell bent on finding the rogue human fleet. Time was crucial, and the hair on the back of her neck was already standing straight up with every minute they remained in a quadrant that housed a Cylon outpost.

"The ammunition and fuel 'take' is wonderful news, commander, as well as the primary objective of securing the ore on _Alpha One_, and processed metals on _Alpha two_." began Laura. "However, my concern is the amount of time we've already spent here. I've been informed that we have now spent a little over twenty-seven hours in this sector, I'd hate to push our luck with the Cylons."

"Madam president, I've been informed by Captain Adama that the operations should conclude in the next six hours. The _Monarch_ and _Majahual _haveprobably set a new Colonial record for extracting ore, and their captains assure me they will meet the set deadline."

"Thank you, commander. Obviously these are military decisions in which I fully defer to your judgment and expertise. Please keep me in the loop, and extend my congratulations to the men and women who made all this possible." said Laura warmly.

"Thank you, Madam president, I will pass along your well wishes to the crew... Adama out."

Running an hour past deadline, the _Monarch, _which had been experiencing technical difficulty with closing a main hatch, finally lifts off, and forms up on the _Galactica_ where they will soon join the rest of the fleet. With the air wing safely aboard, the two mining ships under the protection of the massive battlestar get under way. Chief Tyrol had gotten the pallets of Cylon ammunition and SAMS properly stored. Fortunately, Cylon ammunition was compatible with Colonial ammunition, both used 30mm rounds. Slight modifications would have to be made to the surface to air missiles that would allow them to be fired from the various missile launchers located on the dorsal side of the _Galactica_.

Lee Adama was the last viper to land, and upon climbing down from his cockpit, Tyrol handed him his post-flight checklist. "Good job down there, sir. It was quite the take." said tyrol.

"That it was, chief. Sadly we lost two vipers, and at least eight marines taking that outpost. With luck, you'll be receiving materials for viper repair, and actual viper construction in the next few days."

"I have at least eleven vipers slated for serious repairs. I don't _even_ want to tell you what I've been patching fuselages with." said Tyrol half joking. "As far as actually constructing new vipers... well we can build some seriously stripped-down models until a thorough fleet-wide search can round up the needed parts. The problem sir, is that the _Galactica_ does not have a real viper production facility that you would find in a newer class battlestar. With the appropriate materials, we can construct two to three vipers by hand, but eventually the commander is going to have to address creating an efficient viper production facility."

"I'll make it a point to advise the old man of your recommendation, chief." replied Lee. "In the meantime, do what you can. Also, with Captain Oberon's death, and Lt. Hoskin still out on medical leave, Hephaestus will be the temporary squadron leader for Silver Spar squadron. An ASL will be assigned by the end of the day... carry on chief." Lee climbed the ladder to the upper level and departed the hanger deck. Casualties aside, this was a highly successful mission. The processed metal was desperately needed to replace damaged hull plating on various ships, especially the _Galactica_. The metal ore that the mining ships extracted would be processed for future use, most likely viper production. Lee had entered his quarters that he shared with Starbuck and a few other senior pilots. Before the destruction of the fleet, the CAG of any Battlestar would have his or her own private quarters, but space in the fleet in general, and _Galactica_ in particular was scarce. He didn't mind, he had never anticipated being in the military for very long, much less be the the commander of an air group. Opening the hatch he was assaulted by the stench of one of Starbuck's ever-present fumarellos. Kara was sitting at the long metal table that was positioned in the center of the narrow quarters, wearing a tank top and sweat pants with _Galactica's_ logo embroidered on the hip, probably one of the few such designer sweatpants around.

"Frak, can't you smoke those damned things somewhere else?" said Lee waving his hand trying to clear the heavy layer of smoke from his face.

"Since when did you bitch about fumarello smoke, Lee?" shot back Kara. "I've known you to smoke your share from time to time."

"Yes, but that's usually celebrating something of importance... like you usually being sprung from the brig." replied Lee dropping down onto the edge of his bunk. He started to untie his boot laces when a sharp knock was at the door. Matt Lensherr stepped through the hatch.

"Hey Hephaestus... this is _senior officer's quarters," _said Starbuck in mock anger. "You junior daggit frakers are billeted down the hall." Matt just replied with a raised hand gesture of the obscene variety.

"Excellent reply, lieutenant... don't take any of her felgercarb." goaded Lee.

"You wanted to see me, captain?" asked Matt.

"Yes, until Hoskins gets cleared to return to active flight status, you're Silver Spar's new squadron leader. Your ASL will be _Hex_ until further notice, any questions?"

"Negative sir." replied Matt.

"Great, now get the frak out of here so I can get some rack time." responded Lee kicking off his boots. "Oh, by the way, Matt... you did a hell of a job out there, I mean it. That was some good flying."

"Thank you sir." Matt turned to leave when Starbuck chimed in.

"Hey Hephaestus, if you're planning on having a celebratory frak fest with Racetrack in the storage room, you might be able to find her down in the chow hall." teased Kara.

"Why thank you lass, but I was actually planning on a little self-pleasuring with that photo I have of _you_ that was snapped when you were showering last week. It's been passed around quite a bit, so it is a little battered, perhaps you'd care to pose for another?"

"In your fraking dreams, farm boy, but have at it... you deserve some good wanking to my beautiful image, it must be like a dream come true, the closest you'd ever get to the real thing." Another hand gesture, and Matt is soon out the door.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31.

**Port Flight Pod – Battlestar _Galactica_**

"_Raptor two, Galactica LSO... you are cleared to land on port flight pod, checkers green... call the ball."_

"_Galactica_ LSO, Raptor two has the ball, speed one four zero, over." replied Lieutenant Dwight "Flat Top" Saunders from the pilot's seat. This was Flat Top's one thousandth landing upon Galactica, and he was looking forward to the celebration that he knew was minutes away. Bringing his fifty ton craft down gently to its assigned landing platform, the LSO lowers the craft into the hanger bay below deck where the traditional post flight checklist is waived for the occasion. In reality, the ECO of the pilot making his 1,000th landing would normally complete the post flight check. A little over a dozen pilots waited outside the Raptor as the hatch opened, and cheers erupted as Flat Top emerged. He was quickly hoisted up onto broad shoulders and paraded around the hanger bay. It was a few moments later that Chief Tyrol was appraised of the celebratory landing and excoriated his deck gang for not letting him know in time to prepare a proper welcome. A small equipment transport wagon was quickly dispatched to transport the man of the hour on his rounds.

Matt cursed himself for being late to the ceremony, he was almost at a full run when he passed Commander Adama, rounding the corner he passed the CAG's quarters where Starbuck and Apollo were feverishly painting the number 1000 on a helmet that would be presented to Flat Top. He grabbed hold of the door and brought himself to an abrupt stop. "_You guys need to hurry the frak up, he's already in the bay!"_ warned Matt out of breath.

"See if you can stall them, Heph!" said Lee. Matt replied that he was "on it," and raced for the hanger bay. He was almost through the entrance when the explosion occurred. The pressure wave caught him full on, and Matt felt himself hurled back through the hatch, landing flat on his back. With the wind knocked clear out of his lungs, Matt lay stunned amidst the screams and confusion that quickly followed.

The klaxon sounded as the voice of Petty officer Dualla announced fire in the port hanger deck, directing the fire and rescue teams to respond. Matt was slowly climbing to his feet when Commander Adama, Lee and Kara raced past him into the bay. Entering the bay he could see members of Tyrol's deck gang wielding hand-held extinguishers onto a large volume of flames at the mouth of an empty viper berth. He gazed in horror at the sight of body parts strewn across the floor, a severed thigh clad in the familiar flight leathers of a viper pilot lay before him. To the right of him, two members of the deck gang were attempting to put out a fire that had fully engulfed one victim. Commander Adama started to bark out orders to personnel entering the hanger bay, and Matt did what he could to assist the wounded.

Thirty minutes after the explosion, thirteen viper pilots lay dead, including Flat Top, with seven critically wounded. The fire was contained, and the ship remained at condition two alert as investigators tried to piece together what had happened. Master Chief Galen Tyrol stood as Marine Sergeant First Class Hadrian examined the rack that contained communications drones. "Metal fatigue, old equipment. Worn strap fails, drops a million cubit drone to the deck. Kills thirteen pilots and lands seven more in sickbay." she said matter-of-factly. Tyrol couldn't believe what had happened on his flight deck, he prided himself on running a safe, and efficient flight deck. Thirteen deaths and seven seriously injured was extremely personal for him. He knew each and every one of those pilots, and their loss would be felt for a long time.

**Pilot's Latrine**

Matt stood at the sink trying to scrub the soot from his face, the smell of burnt human flesh assaulted his senses. It was a smell that stayed with you for a long time, and once smelt, you never forgot it. Starbuck emerged from a nearby stall and took the sink next to him. Washing her hands thoroughly, she ran her wet fingers through her short cropped blond hair and sighed.

"Gods... thirteen dead! This is a nightmare." she said softly.

"Any word on the seven?" asked Matt.

"Two have been taken off the critical list, Cottle thinks they'll all pull through, whether or not any of them will be flying anytime soon, or at all, is another matter entirely."

"Pilot's briefing in thirty minutes, I'll see you there, Kara." said Matt gathering up his gear and leaving.

The briefing given by Lee was short, there would be a funeral detail at 1100 hours, and dress grays would be required. He noticed his father slipping in quietly through the rear hatch with Sergeant Hadrian, he remained at the rear listening to the briefing until noticed by Crashdown, who promptly called the room to attention. The commander had addressed his despondent pilots like a father would to his children. His voice was strong, yet full of compassion and understanding. His reassuring tones put the pilots at ease, and they _knew_ that somehow, they would pull through this catastrophe. The funeral detail was soon over, with the thirteen bodies returned to the cosmos life aboard _Galactica_ goes on.

**_Galactica_ Mess Hall**

Starbuck poked at her food, a few weeks after the exodus there was still plenty of food aboard the Battlestar to eat. Normally, food on a Colonial Battlestar was quite good, but late this afternoon, Kara Thrace didn't have much of an appetite. After the funeral detail for the dead pilots, Commander Adama asked to see her in his quarters where he asked her to train the new pilots that would have to replace the dead and wounded ones. At first she graciously declined, but deep down knew that the old man wouldn't take no for an answer. Throughout the fleet there were only two other certified civilian flight instructors, but neither of them had experience in ACM, otherwise known as Air Combat Maneuvering, or dog fighting. She _would_ teach the new pilots, Adama had already decided on that before she stepped foot in his private quarters.

From the moment he stepped into the pilot's briefing earlier that morning, she had been having memory flashbacks to the very first time she had met Commander William Adama, the father of the man she loved and was engaged to, Zak Adama. The guilt that boiled within her over Zak's death ate away at her. It had submerged over the last two years, especially after she came to _Galactica_ from the _Triton_ to work for Zak's father. Now it had reared its ugly head in full intensity. Two weeks ago, as she was preparing to depart for her recon mission at the Ragnar Anchorage, she had confessed to Lee that she had passed Zak in basic flight, even though he _should have_ failed. When Lee asked her why tell him now, her reply was simple. _"It's the end of the world, Lee. I'm confessing my sins." _Now with that guilt returning with a vengeance, she didn't know what to do.

Matthew Lensherr sat in the rear of the mess hall with Lieutenant Mark Sarnex, the Libran intelligence officer that was assigned to _Galactica_ prior to the decommissioning ceremony in order to remove sensitive equipment from the CIC and other critical sections aboard ship. The two had become good friends, and Matt was sitting there completely surprised by the news Mark had just told him.

"You... a _viper pilot?_" asked Matt incredulously.

"Why the surprise, Matt? We just lost thirteen pilots, and we don't know how many of the seven survivors will return, or when. We need every pilot we can get, and there's not much call for a former intelligence officer of late. I've mostly been kept busy being detailed out to other sections that I have little to no experience with. So I decided to volunteer for viper training."

"Word on the street is that Starbuck will be training the new pilots, may the gods have mercy on your souls!" laughed Matt.

A hand gently gripped the base of Matt's neck and started to apply pressure on the nerve cluster present. The voice of Starbuck was soon in Matt's ear. _"Perhaps you should pray to the gods that Timezone was your flight instructor, and not me, farm boy." _Matt swiveled out of Starbuck's grasp and turned to face her.

"Looking for any excuse to put your hands on me, lass?" said a smiling Matt in his Aerilonian accent.

"You wish!" she shot back taking a seat next to Sarnex.

"So you're gonna be one of my nuggets, eh?" asked Starbuck giving Mark Sarnex the once over. "Well at least you're military, and been a few years as an officer. Gods only know what kind of dirt bags I'm gonna get from the civilian fleet." groused Starbuck helping herself to a long pull from Matt's glass.

"Well Lieutenant, I'm looking forward to actually contributing _something _to the fleet other than my charm, wit, and superior looks." quipped Mark with his trademark toothy grin. Matt learned awhile ago that Mark Sarnex held a very high opinion of himself, but not in a way that one would find disagreeable. He had an incredible sense of personal charm, and had a rapier wit that easily disarmed those that came across him. His only fault was his inability to exercise a modicum of self restraint with women. He had already gained a reputation as a womanizer on the ship, and the commander on more than one occasion had to have Colonel Tigh talk to him about his indiscretions. The two had run many a triad games aboard ship, and Mark had easily made friends with many of the pilots, which was unusual, due to pilots tending to fraternize amongst their own kind.

"Oh you are quite the charmer, Sarnex." said Starbuck. "Just be sure to check your charm at the door of the classroom so I won't have to give you my undivided attention, and believe me... it _won't_ be the attention you're used to getting from your little bleached blond frakheads whose bust-size exceed their I.Q."

"No, I'm sure it wouldn't be, but oh the thought of it sends a happy chill through my spine, lieutenant Thrace.

**Three days later**

Lee stood by as Kara read through the folder containing the names of the first class of students she would be teaching. He knew what her reaction would be before he even handed her the file. This was not going to be the highlight of either of their day.

"Boonie jumpers. Shuttle jockeys. And a Fleet Academy washout. _This_ is the best you could come up with?" demanded an irate Kara Thrace. "Damn it Lee, the only one worth anything here is that pervert intelligence officer that got stranded here after the attack."

"Diamonds in the rough." replied Lee trying to keep a straight face.

"Yeah right!" responded Kara unconvincingly.

"They're the most qualified pilots in the fleet.

"Great."

The two parted ways and Kara made her way to the pilot's ready room to give her first briefing to the new nuggets. As she walked through the door, she could hear the laughing and joking going on amongst them. As she called them all to attention, only Sarnex, who sat in the back row by himself snapped to.

"_That means get on your feet, nuggets!" _said Kara in a loud and angry voice. Kara Thrace was not one to be ignored, especially not by junior officers. "You are joining Colonial Fleet, boys and girls, not some after school club." She glared at each and every one of them, and with a barely concealed look of disgust upon her face merely said the word _"seats." _They all quickly took their seats. Standing behind the podium that the CAG or any of the squadron leaders used to address the pilots she looked out on the group of nine pilot wannabees. "Pilots call me Starbuck, you may refer to me as God. You've all flown before, but you're about to enter a whole new world... so pay attention. We don't have any flight simulators on board, so we're putting you in the cockpit, _today_." She continued on with her prepared statements on the Mk. II, and when she heard the exchange between the two male pilots in the front row she decided it was time to give them all a reality check. "Costanza, right?"

A nervous Brendan Costanza replied. "Yes, God, sir."

"Well Hot Dog, it just so happens that I knew your former instructor from the academy that you washed out of, looks like things haven't changed all that much for you. Still a cocky little frak who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. When God talks... you listen! Maybe if you had learned that at the academy, you wouldn't have washed out." The class continued, this time attention was strictly paid and decorum maintained. The actual hands on training commenced, and it did not go as Starbuck had hoped. One of several female pilots in the class, Louanne "Kat" Katrain had an atrocious landing attempt, causing minor damage to her landing gear and moderate damage to the flight deck. Once they were all aboard she waited for them to all gather in their assigned quarters. She was nipping this potential catastrophe in the bud early, these people were not ready to be viper pilots. She laid into them the moment she entered the room, what irritated her further was their reaction to her critique. Every one of them had shamelessly made excuses for their deficiencies, it made her blood boil.

"_No. It's your last."_ replied Kara to Chuckle's whining about it being their first day. "It would be criminal to let any of you near a viper again. So pack your gear and get the hell off my ship. You're done!" She turned and walked out the room, leaving the nuggets standing their wondering what the hell just happened.

An hour later, Lee was marching towards Lt. Thrace's last known location, his anger increasing with every step. He had just been handed Starbuck's evaluation and termination report of the day old recruits. _What the frak was she thinking? _He thought as he made his way through pilot's country. He soon found her in the pilot's lounge.

"What are you doing here, Kara?" demanded Lee. "You can't wash them out on their first day?"

"I just did." she replied, not bothering to turn around from what she was doing. Lee tried to appeal to her sense of reasoning.

"Look, I got forty vipers, and twenty one pilots. _That's it._ We are sitting ducks until we finish water ops. We can't even maintain a CAP. And gods forbid the Cylons show up."

"Gods forbid." retorted Kara mockingly. "Let's bring in the next group of candidates."

"The next group has never even been in a cockpit. _They're starting basic flight!"_

"_Then they start basic flight!" _She snapped back becoming more annoyed by the minute. "Because that group is done. It says so right there." she said gesturing to the report Lee held in his hands, she then turned her back on him and started to leave the room.

"Lt. Thrace, this is _not_ a request." challenged the CAG.

"Well, Captain Adama... I am the flight instructor, _sir_. My word is scripture, _sir_. I will not, repeat, not pass another student who isn't ready." There it is, thought Lee. The real reason she washed the nuggets out so quickly. He knew that she didn't want the assignment, he knew the real truth behind her reluctance. _Zak_.

"So that's what this is about. It's not them, it's Zak." said Lee. Lee saw the fire burn in Kara's eyes at his accusation, her body language was the dead give away as she tensed up and leaned within inches of his face.

"_Careful."_ she warned in a low and threatening voice. Lee wasn't intimidated, or impressed.

"Step back!" Lee warned ominously. Kara wasn't stupid, she knew how far she could push Lee. She stormed out of the room without another word.

Shortly after the encounter with Starbuck, Lee knew he was going to have to take this to the old man. Even though he was Starbuck's boss as the commander of the air group, and her senior officer, he knew she wasn't going to back down on this. He knew his father had a special place in his heart for Kara, he thought of her as his daughter, and if anyone could truly _reach her_, it would be him. The discussion went smoothly, and the elder Adama reassured Lee that he and Starbuck had talked about many things, including Zak's death, and that he trusted her judgment in the matter of the pilot's training. That was pretty much the end of the discussion at that point, and Lee turned to leave. He paused, turning to face his father.

"I think she's trying to work out her guilt over what she did for Zak."

"Guilt? Over what?" asked Adama. His response and obvious surprise brought Lee up short. Didn't he say that he talked with Starbuck over Zak's death? "_What did she do for Zak?" _Lee's eyes went wide with the horror that he just betrayed Kara's confidence. How could he have been so careless?

Lee looked to the floor, "It's not my place to say and I've already said more than I should have." he said weakly. "You'll have to ask her... I'm sorry." with that, Lee turned to leave his father's private quarters, leaving his commander and father thoroughly confused over what just occurred. Adama walked over to his desk and pulled the phone from it's wall-mounted cradle, he dialed the CIC.

"_Combat." _answered Petty officer Dualla.

"Dee, get the word to Starbuck, I want to see her in my quarters _immediately._" ordered Adama severing the transmission.

A half hour later, a visibly shaken Kara Thrace walked out of Commander Adama's quarters, her eyes were bloodshot, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt nauseous, her heart felt like it would explode from her chest, and the hurt she felt was almost unbearable. The man whom she considered a father to her nearly burst a blood vessel trying to contain the rage he was feeling towards her. The woman who had just been exposed as a liar to him, the woman who, right or wrong, held a degree of responsibility for the death of his youngest son, her lover. The tears flowed freely as she ran to her quarters, not looking up at anyone along the route. She reached the safety of her quarters and slammed shut the hatch. She was all alone, and she dropped onto her backside and buried her face in her hands, and wept.

Mark Sarnex sat on the edge of the bottom bunk in his new quarters, he watched as his former classmates packed their gear and prepared to return to the civilian ships they had come from. He would miss pilot's country, his eight man stateroom was far superior to his previous quarters. He had the bare minimum of flying experience, yet he made the least amount of frak ups during the hands-on training. Unfortunately, that didn't prevent him from being lumped in with the other candidates that were washed out. He was surprised to see Starbuck walk into the room, hands clasped behind her back, everyone had snapped to attention. She stopped and scanned the room, looking into the eyes of each and every one of them before speaking.

"Unpack your gear. You are _all_ returned to flight status."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32.

A week had passed since Kara Thrace was ordered by the commander to reinstate the trainees to flight status.On a _Thorch weave_ maneuver lesson, Starbuck and her trainees encounter a group of Cylon raiders. Starbuck orders her nuggets to return to _Galactica_ and reverses course to confront the raiders and cover her student's retreat. With the unauthorized help of Hot Dog, the two engage the raiders and almost destroy the entire attacking force before Hot Dog's viper sustains serious damage. As her nugget drifts off in a seriously damaged viper, Starbuck soon finds herself in dire straights with the sole surviving raider. The two are on a collision course with one another as they fired their 30mm cannons at each other. Starbuck scores a crippling hit on the raider, and as it passed, the two star fighters collided, causing a system shutdown of her nearly forty year old viper. The gravity well of a nearby moon drags both damaged fighters down, and Starbuck barely escapes with her life by ejecting from the doomed craft.

Back on _Galactica_, after a post incident briefing with Hot Dog, Commander Adama orders an immediate search and rescue for Kara. Rotating squadrons are sent out to search for their missing comrade, as are several civilian ships loaned to Adama for the SAR mission. Fierce determination guides the members of the air wing and her support staff to locate their popular missing pilot. On the surface of the small moon, Starbuck awakes to find herself all alone in an alien environment with violent winds dragging her across the terrain by her chute. Before she can cut herself free from her parachute lines, which have tangled about her legs, she is dragged over the rough rocky terrain, smashing her knee on a medium sized boulder. After freeing herself, she takes inventory of her oxygen supply and other emergency items. Her wireless radio is broken beyond repair, and a quick sampling of the atmosphere reveals a lethal composition to humans. Aware she is probably being searched for, she decides to make for high ground where she feels her best chances of being spotted are. While navigating the terrain she comes face to face with the raider she had done combat with high above the moon. Approaching the craft cautiously, she sees that she had scored a directed head shot. Pleased with herself, she starts to investigate the craft, and locates an access portal, where much to her surprise, houses a living bio-mechanical construct, and not a robotic pilot.

Starbuck had gained entry to the inside of the raider, partly out of curiosity but mainly to get out of the elements, and with the slim hope that she might be able to make the raider fly. With numerous vipers getting knocked out of service due to the damage being done to the engines by the moon's dust-laden atmosphere, another problem is fast approaching. The SAR mission is burning up desperately diminished fuel reserves normally used for keeping the air wing aloft. Both Adamas are fiercely committed to locating Kara regardless of the costs, and in a tense-filled moment, Colonel Tigh is relieved of his duties when he questions the commander's orders, and points out the obvious dangers of the civilian fleet being spread out across the system as they assist in the search for a single pilot.

"_Galactica_, Hephaestus...engine malfunction, requesting emergency approach." said Matt calmly over the transmitter.

"_Hephaestus, this is Galactica, you are cleared for emergency approach." _replied Dualla. Matt's Mk. VII viper was the latest casualty in the search for Starbuck. Unable to utilize scanners, the pilots are forced to fly lower in the atmosphere using visual reconnissance, which the Colonial military referred to as Mark One Eyeball, to try and search for wreckage or Starbuck herself. Matt was flying roughly thirty meters above the surface, and the air intakes were taking a beating from the thick swirling dust that was kicked up by the violent storms on the moon. Clearing the moon and switching from atmospheric flight to space flight did little to alleviate the situation. Two of the three Voram engines were red-lined, and the third was in the process of being shut down. If he found himself under armed attack at that moment, he would not have survived. The whine of the damaged engines were ear-piercing within the cockpit.

"Roger that _Galactica_, better have the crash crew is standing by, this may get ugly... several primary systems starting to malfunction and shut down." warned Matt. Dee acknowledged him and relayed the information to the Landing Signal Officer, Captain Aaron Kelly, who no doubt was aware of the situation from monitoring the pilot's frequency himself. The CAG was immediately made aware of the situation, he had just left the CIC after giving the commander a sitrep on vipers that were down due to damage from the SAR when he heard the page for him to report to the flight pod for an emergency landing. He was double-timing it down to the port flight pod, yelling to "make a hole" to those ahead of him in the crowded corridors.

Audible warnings indicating engine failure, and avionic system malfunctions blared in Matt's ear. His approach to the mouth of the flight pod just became more difficult as aircraft flight control systems

rapidly failed. It was far too late to eject as he entered the massive hanger bay, the nose came down hard onto the deck, bending it up at an obscene angle. The viper lurched up, and spun around uncontrollably until the port wing clipped a nearby shuttle that had just landed prior to Matt's request for emergency landing. 50,000 pounds of viper skidded across the flight deck, stopping abruptly against the side of the interior. Miraculously, Matt was able to walk away from the landing, unfortunately, his viper was heavily damaged, something the air wing could scarce afford at this moment.

**Commander's quarters **

Lee rapped the hatch nervously. Even though he was a captain, and the commander of _Galactica's_ air group, he knew his father was in a mood. He was furious with himself, that after all these years, his father could still put him on edge like this. He understood though, this was Kara, and he knew that all options would be fully exhausted and then some, before they left her behind.

"_Enter!" _snapped the senior Adama. Lee stepped through the hatch and into his father's private quarters. At the far end of the spacious room was a large antique wooden desk, on the desk was a large mug of steaming hot coffee, and a bowl of untouched noodles. William Adama closed the folder before him and leaned back in his chair, he looked directly at his son.

"Too many, Lee!" he said. He was referring to the numbers of vipers out of commission. He had just spoken with the president, and she wasn't happy. "Thirteen vipers down with engine problems, and now Lensherr's viper, which is in significantly worse shape."

"Our redeploying the CAP to assist in the search, as well as positioning the fleet closer to the moon should increase our odds, and give the fleet greater protection in the event the Cylons show up." replied Lee.

"The president is becoming a problem, we need to find Kara, her oxygen is almost gone." The pain in William Adama's voice was obvious. The two men sat in silence, reflecting on the one woman that was extremely close to both of them.

After being lowered from the flight deck, Matt's Mk. VII viper was towed to the far corner of the bay where it could be worked on by Chief Tyrol's deck gang. Senior Chief Tyrol was inspecting the intakes on all three Voram engines, he shook his head in disgust. Fourteen of his vipers were now sidelined, along with one Raptor that had suffered serious damage to its undercarriage when it struck the ground during one of many low flying searches. Petty officer second class Callandra Henderson stepped forward pulling a power washer.

"Cally, see what you can do for the intakes, I need all of the heavy felgercarb cleaned out of there before we can see how badly the turbines are damaged." ordered Tyrol. Cally could sense how frustrated the chief was. There wasn't a member of _Galactica's_ crew who wouldn't go all the way to locate Starbuck, but the reality was that the fleet's sole defense, the viper wing, was getting beat to hell. Critical components were being held together with not much more than spit and wire, and with limited or no replacement parts, the situation was becoming critical. There were already murmurings going around of Apollo's heavy-handed treatment of the chief and the deck gang, while all knew that Lee Adama was a thoughtful officer, and decent human being, it was obvious that he was approaching unsafe stress levels.

"Aye aye, chief." replied Cally as she went about power washing the viper, and it's engines. The thick orange dust was caked on the turbine blades, inside the 30mm barrels of the KEWS, and every other nook and cranny of the starfighter. Matthew Lensherr's Mk VII viper was one of a handful aboard _Galactica_, the remaining vipers were Mk. II's, forty years or older. Parts were extremely difficult to replace on those models, and in many cases, parts were cobbled together in a makeshift manner to replicate the originals. Thankfully, the metals taken from the Cylon outpost, as well as ammunition, were desperately needed gifts from the gods.

"_Another fraking turbocharger destroyed!" _yelled the chief to nobody in particular. He flung his clipboard angrily across the deck and Cally watched as it skittered across the floor. "This is getting out of hand, where the frak am I supposed to get new turbochargers?" Galen Tyrol caught himself, he was losing his temper in front of his deck gang, something he went to great pains to always avoid. He turned around and walked into the tool shed, sealing the hatch where he sat down and composed himself.

**Pilot's quarters**

Matt Lensherr peeled himself out of his flight leathers, he was dead tired. The search for Starbuck was taking too long, it was only a matter of time before her air supply ran out. He tried to block out the images of the always cool, calm and collected Kara Thrace clawing at her helmet in a panic as the last of her oxygen disappeared. He forced the images from his mind, and tried to tell himself that they _would_ find her. Unfortunately, the odds were against it. He was off flight rotations for another fourteen hours, barring a Cylon attack. He needed to sleep, he hadn't felt this exhausted since the relentless Cylon attacks every thirty three minutes weeks ago. He kicked his leathers into the bottom of his locker and climbed into his rack. Just as he felt himself drifting off, a quick knock at the open hatch door disturbed him. _"Come in!"_ he said irritably. Lt. Dave "Roadkill" Wright stepped into the room. "You sleeping Matt?" he asked.

"Fraking trying to, Dave. What's up?" said Matt propping himself up on his side.

"Rumor Mill has it that the president is considering calling an end to the SAR op for Kara." said Dave helping himself to a small container of nuts that Matt had in his open locker. Matt ignored the invasion of privacy, and Roadkill helping himself to the ever dwindling supply of nuts that he won in a card game a few days ago.

"The president has no authority over military matters, good luck with that felgercarb." replied Matt.

"I wouldn't be too sure, Matty. Even Tyrol is bitching up a storm over the damaged vipers. I hear some hotshot just wrecked one of the few Mk. VII's we have left." said Dave with a smile, knowing full well that it was Matt's viper.

"A gross exaggeration, Roadkill. I'm sure Tyrol's knuckle-draggers will have my bird up and ready for my next rotation." Dave sat down at the metal table in the center of the room, confirming Matt's fears that he's not going to get any sleep.

"What do you think of Hot Dog's first time out against the Cylons?" asked Dave changing the subject. "I mean how fraking lucky can a nugget get? He encounters eight raiders on a training exercise, takes out two of them."

"Yeah, but perhaps if he listened to Starbuck and got his ass back to _Galactica_ she may not have been shot down trying to cover his sorry ass."

"Or perhaps he saved her from getting killed herself?" added Dave in all seriousness. "Crashdown told me that Apollo took off his own Viper wings and pinned it on Costanza's puke stained tee shirt after the Raptor crew picked him up drifting in a wrecked viper. Said that today he _earned those wings_."

"Old Timezone is probably rolling in whatever fraking grave he may be in at the very thought of Hot Dog in a viper." mused Matt wearily. "Okay, seriously... get the frak out of here so I can get some sleep.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

Lee stood with his father at the plotting table at the center of the CIC, a chart was rolled out as Lee explained the significance. "Red flight reports an area of highlands here." he said gesturing to a section of the moon that was displayed on the chart. "Increased visibility out to 15 clicks maybe." he continued.

"It's the _wrong_ side of the moon." observed the commander dryly. He was soon interrupted by a persistent Dualla who had notified him that the president's shuttle was on final approach.

"_Why wasn't I notified the President was coming onboard?"_ snapped Adama.

"There was no advance notice, sir." she replied. This wasn't good, thought Adama who glanced at his son.

"I didn't know she was coming." said Lee defensively. On his way out of the CIC, Adama directed Dualla to have the executive officer bring the president to his private quarters where he would be waiting. Lee quickly followed his father out the hatch.

Twenty-five minutes later, the President of the Colonies was standing in Commander Adama's private quarters along with both Adamas and Colonel Tigh. She was _not_ happy. She made eye contact with Commander Adama as he greeted her, she immediately cut him off.

"Skip the formalities. You both know why I'm here." she said icily. Adama was in no better mood than her and immediately challenged her.

"Termination of a pilot's rescue mission is a _military_ _decision!_" said the commander.

"That's a bunch of crap. This isn't military, it's personal." she said matter-of-factly. "Neither of you can let go of Kara Thrace because she's your last link to Zak." A flash of white hot anger surged through Lee as he stepped forward.

"_You don't know anything about my brother." _said Lee angrily. Laura Roslin was undeterred, she cut off Lee and accused them both of losing perspective. She accused them both of putting the fleet's safety at risk, possibly leaving them open to a Cylon attack. The senior Adama refuted her accusations, explaining that the Cylon Baseship would not be missing their now-destroyed patrol for at least another day. As if not even hearing the senior Adama's reply she asked Colonel Tigh how much aviation fuel had been expended in the operation.

"Forty three percent of reserves." he replied quietly. Lee shot the executive officer a murderous glare, to him, Tigh was taking the president's side in the matter. He had voiced continuous opposition to the degree in which they mounted the rescue operation. It was no secret that Saul Tigh and Kara Thrace greatly disliked each other, prior to the Cylon surprise attack on the Colonies, Kara had struck the drunken XO during a card game when Tigh flipped the table over after an uncomfortable exchange with her. Tigh immediately ordered her placed under arrest and thrown in _Galactica's_ brig. Only Commander Adama's intervention saved her from serious charges and possible courts martial procedures.

"Almost half. That's unacceptable. Operations in the moon's atmosphere... have put one third of your fighters out of action. _That is also completely unacceptable." _William Adama's face contorted as he quickly, and clearly reiterated that the recovery of a pilot was a military matter, and that the discussion was closed.

Laura Roslin had felt that the uneasy relationship between the two leaders had recently begun to thaw, now that famous _Adama wall_ was back up, stronger and higher than ever. She felt sorry for both father and son. They were willing to risk the entire future of what was left of humanity over one pilot. It pained her to think she overestimated the integrity and professionalism of the two officers standing before her. "Fine." she began. "It's a military matter... and you're both officers, and both honorable men. And you're both perfectly aware that you are putting the lives of over 45,000 people... and the future of this civilization at risk... for your own personal feelings." Those words struck both Lee and his father like thunderbolts, but neither of them showed any reaction to the president. "Now if the two of you, of all people can live with that... then the human race doesn't stand a chance. _Clear your heads!" _she said bitterly, and walked out the door. The three men stood in uncomfortable silence, both Lee and his father feeling the sting of the president's words, knowing that each and every one of them were true. Both father and son exchanged a long and silent glance, no words were needed. Lee walked over to the wall mounted phone and dialed the direct line to the CIC. He then handed the phone to his father.

"This is the commander. Terminate search operations. Bring everyone home. Prepare the fleet to make a jump to the next system... we're leaving."

Fifteen minutes later, Laura Roslin stood in the CIC, she watched an interesting exchange between father and son at the entrance to the battlestar's nerve center. She couldn't hear the dialogue, but the facial expressions spoke volumes. Lee walked off as the commander entered the CIC. Stopping in front of his executive officer, the two old friends exchanged knowing glances as Adama ordered him to resume his duties. With all fighters back on board, the commander gives the order to start the jump clock. Lt. Gaeta prepares the ship for a faster-than-light jump to the next star system. He approached the president who stood patiently by the plotting table.

"Madam President, would you like to return to your ship?" asked Adama.

"Thank you, I'll stay here. I'd like to see how the _professionals_ do it." replied Laura.

"As you wish." said Adama who turned away to take his position at the plotting table. After a few moments of silence, he ordered Lt. Gaeta to jump the ship, who immediately started counting off related stations, each officer or enlisted person answering ready to go. A DRADIS warning sounded and Petty Officer Dualla immediately identified the contact as a Cylon raider, and one that would be in effective firing range before they could jump.

"Action stations. Launch vipers." ordered the commander.

Lee had made his way down to the flight pod to talk with Chief Tyrol. He had wanted to apologize for some of his behavior towards the deck gang in general, and the chief in particular during the search. Lee had pushed hard for the deck gang to stay on top of viper repair. He didn't care how many hours they put in, he wanted his vipers up and running, and in some cases got into very heated arguments with the chief. He was walking across the catwalk when the klaxon sounded. Colonel Tigh's voice announcing an incoming Cylon raider. Lee started running across the walk and descended the stairs to get to his viper. He was waved off by a deck hand fueling up his Mk. VII, and informed that two alert vipers were already fueled and in the tubes. He reached launch tube number 14 where a Mk. II was loaded and ready for immediate launch. Lt. Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza was already scrambling into the viper in tube 17.

Climbing up into the cockpit, he strapped himself in and was handed a magnetic collar and helmet. He powered up the three voram engines and awaited clearance to launch. Captain Aaron Kelly's voice cleared him for launch, the star fighter hurtled down the launch tube and out into space. Over the comline he could hear the shooter ordering Hot Dog to abort the launch due to an interval failure. Lee was on his own to face an attacking raider. Within moments he was closing fast with the enemy, he fired the 30mm kinetic energy weapons attached to both wings. The raider easily evaded the fire. The raider maneuvered like a bat in the sky, slipping in an out of the stream of deadly cannon fire put out by Lee's fighter.

"This bastard's good." exclaimed Lee. For all his efforts, he couldn't score a hit on the raider that was fast approaching _Galactica_. He knew the closer he allowed the raider to get to Galactica the sooner they would open up with their point defense turrets, catching his own ship within the engagement zone. Before Lee could react, the raider reversed its engines and allowed Lee to fly right over and past it. Desperately scanning all sides through his canopy, Lee informed _Galactica_ that he lost the raider.

Gaeta immediately looked at the DRADIS screen at his station, the two signals were so close to each other that they merged as one. There was no way to tell them apart. Lee took evasive maneuvers but for all his efforts he could not get a visual on the Cylon. It was then that he noticed movement directly above him. The raider was less than two meters above his own ship flying inverted in tight formation.

"_Galactica, _the Cylon is now flying in formation_ with _me... right above my head. This thing is acting weird." said Lee over the comline. He studied the instrument of death for what seemed like minutes until without warning it gained distance and righted itself. Lee Adama couldn't believe what he was now seeing. He started to laugh. There, in bright yellow tape, the very yellow tape that was in every viper pilot's emergency kit attached to the underside of their seat, were the words _STAR _on the portwing, and_ BUCK _on the starboard wing. Starbuck was piloting the Cylon raider flying in tight formation with his own viper.

"_It's Starbuck!_" yelled Lee, laughing over the comline. The confusion in the CIC was palpable as Commander Adama himself asked Lee to repeat his last transmission. "Galactica, the Cylon raider is marked Starbuck. It's written under the frackin wing." Cheers and whistles erupted across the CIC as the good news is broadcast. The search for Starbuck was over, she had found them.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33.

Today's CAP was being flown by two old friends and same class academy graduates Hephaestus and Lt. Dave "Roadkill" Wright. When Matt had first arrived on _Galactica_ as a refugee from the destroyed _Triton_, he had forgotten that his old friend from the academy, Roadkill had drawn an assignment aboard _Galactica _when he graduated. The reunion was a joyous one, as Matt had very few people left that he actually knew in this new phase of his life. The two were on the far side of the fleet, and had been discussing the latest rumors about the new batch of viper trainees, the new push for viper construction and whose fracking who over a secure channel.

"I heard that Starbuck really laid into Chuckles over that bad landing the other day," laughed Roadkill. "Heard she assigned him to the knuckle-draggers for the day doing scut work."

"Yeah, these guys got some serious work ahead of them. You remember what kind of a frack up Hot Dog was back in the academy? Let's see how Starbucks direct tutelage irons out the rough spots." replied Matt.

"How's John doing? He make the mistake of coming onto Starbuck yet?"

"I doubt it, the man will frack anything not nailed down, but he's professional enough not to mix pleasure with business, especially something as serious as viper training."

"What's with the call sign? _Nightstalker_, is it?"

"No idea, I haven't talked with Starbuck this rotation." replied Matt.

"You see where they started to construct the new viper?" asked Roadkill.

"Yeah, they've got the fuselage completed in record time. That metal we scored from the Cylon outpost couldn't have come at a better time. After the old man dispersed the civilian allotment throughout the fleet for much needed repairs, he green lighted the construction for the first viper. A far cry from any real ship board viper construction facility, but beggars can't be choosers." said Matt.

"Whatchya think of the colonel's wife just showing up outta nowhere?" Matt winced, even though they were on a select channel between the two pilots, there was no guarantee that someone in the CIC or even the LSO wasn't monitoring the obscure channel used specifically for pilots flying the combat air patrol to blow off steam and chat without tying up the main frequencies.

"Looks to be a miracle." replied Matt playing it safe. He decided to switch topics before something inappropriate would be said about Ellen Tigh. It had been determined that Ellen had been on _Picon_ during the Cylon attack, and was placed badly hurt and unconscious aboard the _Rising Star_. There had been rumblings about her return, and the fact that nobody from the _Rising Star_ had recalled treating her. From what Matt had gathered from the rumor mill, Ellen Tigh, much like her husband was a highly functional alcoholic. She also had a reputation for sleeping with a great many officers throughout Colonial Fleet over the years.

The long days continue as the Colonial refugees sail through uncharted space, the search for Tylium ore still remaining elusive. The fuel expended in the search for Starbuck had seriously cut into the reserves, and even the captured fuel from the Cylon outpost was almost depleted. The fleet was cruising along, trying to conserve fuel while recon teams jumped ahead for possible tylium sources.

**Starboard Flight Pod Graduation Day – Viper Pilot Training**

Commander Adama stood at the podium in dress grays. Eight newly minted viper pilots stood at attention ready to receive their much-coveted viper wings. An honor guard was off to the side, and standing next to, and slightly behind the commander was President Laura Roslin. The CAG and training officer stood before the tray containing the viper wings. Colorful standards representing the twelve colonies of _Kobol_, viper squadrons, and _Galactica's_ own official standard stood flapping in the wind artificially generated by a large fan strategically placed off to the side.

"Good morning." began Adama. "Weeks ago, a devastating accident in the hanger bay resulted in the deaths of thirteen of our brothers and sisters. A tragedy compounded by the fact that these thirteen people were part of the fleet's first line of defense, viper and raptor pilots that made up the backbone of our air group." Adama paused for effect and adjusted his glasses. "You eight answered the call, seven of you volunteering to enlist in the military, and using your past experiences as pilots to enter viper training. Today your hard work and sacrifices have paid off, today you are _all_ qualified viper pilots." Thunderous applause erupted from the massive bay that had been sealed off from the extremes of space. One by one, each pilot had been called up to the podium, where Apollo or Starbuck would hand the President the golden viper wings that she would pin onto their uniforms. Seven of the men and women had been officially commissioned as Lieutenant Junior grades, only former intelligence officer Mark Sarnex was a full lieutenant. Kara Thrace was proud of her nuggets, they all had their "issues," but when they got into the seat of their vipers, they turned on the professionalism and high standards she demanded. Commander Adama stepped aside to allow the President to make a brief statement.

"Good morning, I would first like to thank each and every one of you officers for answering the call to duty. Our whole civilization was turned upside down by the Cylon attack on the Colonies, everything we knew and loved was gone in a nuclear second. We found ourselves thrust into the unknown, with an uncertain future, forced to adapt to an entirely different life. You eight men and women went a step above and beyond when you swore an oath to protect the citizens of this fleet, the last vestiges of humanity, putting your own life in the gun sights of an enemy that will not stop until we have all had our atoms scattered across the cosmos. For that, you have my undying appreciation and respect... thank you, and good hunting!" The applause resumed, and Lee had given the command to fall out. The newly-minted viper pilots broke formation and high fived, or hugged each other. They were now officially Colonial viper pilots, part of an elite force.

**Presidential press conference - _Colonial One_ **

Laura Roslin had soon come to realize that dealing with the press was her least favorite daily agenda. As the Secretary of Education, she had been far below the media's dradis, few people in the media even knew who she was. Now she was president of the twelve colonies, a position fallen upon her by rule of succession. It had been a week since the happy moments of the first graduation ceremony that she had attended, there was no media presence on the flight pod of _Galactica_ that day. Pilot graduation by military tradition was a private affair between the close bonds of the military. Today, she faced the entire fleet news media, and the topic was grim.

"I can assure you, the fuel shortage is our number one priority. _Galactica_ has ships scouring the nearby star systems... and we can anticipate that they will soon find tylium." Thirty-six days had passed since the exodus from the colonies, and the fleet was now down to five percent tylium reserves. _Galactica_ was not carrying a maximum fuel load at the time of the attack, otherwise they could have shared with the fleet. The situation was critical, and Laura could see the concern straight through the cold mask that Commander Adama tried to present. "Questions?"

Former Aerilonian Gazette editor Sekou Hamilton, now a co-host of the fleet's talk wireless political events show _The_ _Colonial Gang _stood and asked how long the fleet had left before they ran out of fuel in the event that the very rare tylium ore could not be located. Laura resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably behind the podium, by force of will she stood like a statue, back straight, looking straight ahead and very presidential.

"That all depends on how well we conserve." replied Laura confidently. Playa Palacios, a veteran reporter for the _Picon Star Tribune, _also a co-host of _The Colonial Gang _sprang to her feet without waiting to be called upon.

"Isn't it a fact, Madam President that we only have enough fuel for two more jumps?" she challenged, seeing right through the president's projection of confidence.

"Yes, that is correct. She replied. She barely heard the follow up question regarding contingency plans from Sekou when movement at the top of the podium containing her notes caught her attention. A snake was coiled about the microphone, snakes of various colors and sizes were covering the podium, hissing and crawling over her notes and hands. Surprisingly, she didn't recoil in terror, she found herself utterly calm in the face of the mass of deadly snakes slithering within inches of her. Nobody else had reacted to the snakes, not even Billy, her chief of staff who was at her side. This had to be a hallucination, a very real hallucination. She needed to get out of there, now! She hastily brought the press conference to a close and excused herself, leaving many in the room, including her own staff, very confused.

**Raptor 6 – Recon section 6 Alpha**

Crashdown stared at the monitor before him, like the hundreds of previous scans before, he wasn't getting too hopeful. "Commencing sweep 87 of asteroid field." he stated, his voice devoid of any emotion. His pilot, Boomer, continued to badger him about the young female ensign Davis that had recently taken a keen interest in him.

The debris field was intense in the sector of space, cluttering up the DRADIS with false readings. Only the most seasoned ECO and pilot could differentiate between the debris and other man-made contacts. "Damn it, there's so much debris in this system, the dradis is useless. This is going to take a hundred years." complained Crashdown. Boomer continued to needle him about a young female named Ensign Davis that had a crush on him, she knew that not only did Lt. Alex "Crashdown" Quartararo have pasty white skin, but that that skin was extremely thin. He could dish it out, but couldn't take it when it was given back to him. In frustration, the ECO slapped the side of the monitor in the mistaken belief that doing so would correct the problem with the debris field fouling the dradis. Seconds later the status bar on his screen flashed _**Target Signature – Tylium Ore**_. Alex Quartararo nearly jumped out of his flight leathers in excitement.

"Jackpot, Boomer. That asteroid dead ahead is a mountain of tylium." laughed Crashdown. The two laughed and hollered in excitement. The excitement was short lived when Boomer spotted a flight of Cylon raiders far in the distance, pulling away from the large asteroid before them. Upon closer inspection, she spotted a large Cylon base.

"Cylons. The rock is crawling with them." she exclaimed.

"We are well and truly fracked, the only tylium in twelve light years and we have to kiss it goodbye."

"Yeah, along with our asses if we don't get out of here fast." Boomer reversed course and threaded her way through the asteroid field, trying to keep the large chunks of debris directly in her wake to prevent detection by the Cylons. Once in the clear, they jumped back to the fleet where they report their find to the commander.

Matt Lensherr stood outside the closed hatch to the CIC. Peering through the window he spotted Apollo hunched over the plotting table in deep conversation with the commander, executive officer and tactical officer Felix Gaeta. They were going over a star chart and digital photos of the asteroid discovered by Raptor 6's team. He was on the hanger deck when Boomer arrived, she and Crashdown talked about the large tylium readings detected on the asteroid, this was the break they desperately needed, and it was in jeopardy due to a Cylon presence. He wondered what the commander would do, there was no way they could let this find go. The fleet was running on vapors as it was, they had to take this asteroid Matt thought.

"What are you doing up here?" Matt spun around to see Mark Sarnex approaching.

"Not much, was looking for Apollo, but don't want to bother him right now, they look like they're in deep thought."

"Well it looks like the commander just recommended something big by the way the other three guys snapped their head in his direction." added Mark. Matt turned and looked back through the window, Adama was the only one talking, and the other three had stunned looks etched on their faces. "On another front, looks like I'm being assigned to the Spars."

"How the frack did you find that out? I just was advised this morning that you were going to be assigned to my squadron." asked Matt incredulously.

"Matt, Matt, Matt... did you forget that I'm an intelligence officer? Well, a former intelligence officer that is. I have my sources." Of that, Matt Lensherr had no doubt. In the short time he had known Mark Sarnex he had come to the determination that if Mark Sarnex didn't know something... it didn't exist. The man had the uncanny ability to root out the tightest held piece of information with some exceptions. He was the defacto "rumor control officer," a fictitious post that had recently come into being aboard _Galactica_.

"So many things are happening so quickly," began Matt. "I've been on this ship for a month now, and I'm already the acting squadron leader. A position under normal circumstances would take me years and captain's rank to achieve."

"Hey, I kept my ears open during that selection process, your reputation preceded you, my friend. The old man had you pegged as an up and comer, and your academy records were exemplary."

"Oh, they just happened to have my file on hand?" asked Matt sarcastically.

"This is the age of computers young fire god, while _Galactica_ was never a networked system under Adama's command, they still were required to update their systems. All information in regards to the fleet and personnel aboard this ship were current as of six months prior to the attacks. You have the right clearance codes, you can access history on every person with a military background." said Mark.

"And you, having the right clearance, accessed my jacket?" asked Matt with a crooked smile. Mark Sarnex gave no reply other than his trademarked toothy grin. "Well it doesn't matter, Hoskins is off injured status and will be resuming command of the Spars by day's end, I'll be filling the role of ASL."

"Can't think of anyone better for the job." replied Mark. The two men walked off for the lower decks, the mood aboard ship was grim, the fuel shortage was on everybody's mind. _Galactica_ still had enough to remain functional, but the rest of the fleet did not, they couldn't take everyone aboard their ship and they also could not allow the civilian ships to fully suck dry their fuel, otherwise the risked damaging the engines once a fuel source was obtained.

Back in the CIC, Commander Adama decided to stop running and confront the Cylons. They were not going to let this fuel source go, they were going to take it from their oppressors. The response from his executive officer was less than enthusiastic. He knew they were heavily outnumbered, but surprise was on their side. Lee and Saul had been tasked with drafting an attack plan, they were both good men, smart officers, and with Saul's experience he knew a decent op would be crafted. Unfortunately he needed more than a decent op, he needed a fool-proof one. Lee and Saul would not like his next decision, that much he knew, especially Saul. He was going to have to bring Kara's unique expertise into the mix. She was an unorthodox warrior, willing to bend to the point of breaking, rules and conventional wisdom to obtain a desired goal. Her and Saul Tigh were like oil and water, neither one of them liked each other, but he knew that deep down, both knew the strengths and weaknesses of each other, and there was a small level of unspoken respect. As far as Lee was concerned, the two pilots complimented each other's skills. They were a fantastic team that had taken obsolete vipers, and unseasoned pilots and turned them into fanatics, capable of holding their own, and in most cases surpassing the Cylon raider's abilities that they faced on the field of combat. The three would have to work together. He excused himself, and started for pilot's country to find Starbuck.

**Forty eight hours later**

The night before the operation, Adama went looking for his son, he knew exactly where he'd find him. Hanger Bay One, berth three housed Lee's viper. The paint was faded, and the white fuselage long pitted and scarred with burn marks and debris impacts. Lee sat quietly in deep thought. He spoke of the Mk. II viper that sat before them, small talk to break the ice. Sitting down he reached into his pocket and spoke. "I've got something for you. It belonged to your grandfather." Lee's curiosity was piqued, his father seldom mentioned his own father. He handed Lee an old silver lighter with the name _Joseph Adama_ engraved on the side.

Joseph Adama had been a notorious civil rights lawyer on _Caprica. _He was also known as the lawyer for the Ha'la'tha, a _Tauron_ based criminal enterprise that had interests on _Caprica_. As a child, Lee would routinely visit his grandfather, often sneaking into his private studies to look through the many books that lined the floor to ceiling bookshelves. He loved his grandfather, he spent many days and weeks with him when his own father was away in space with Colonial fleet. Feeling that lighter in his hands brought back many pleasant memories of his grandfather, and sadly, many painful memories of his own father.

"He was a better father than I was." said William Adama softly. Lee had let that sink in, perhaps the closest thing to an apology, or acknowledgment of his poor parenting that he'd ever likely hear from his father. "Dad used to carry that into court cases, claimed he never lost, unless he left it behind."

"So you're worried too." said Lee misunderstanding his father's offering.

"About what?"

"You know, sometimes it feels like the whole ship... thinks Starbuck would do better."

"I don't!" replied Adama.

"How can you be so sure?" pressed Lee

"Because you're my son." Bill Adama turned and looked at his son directly in the eyes. He was never more proud of his son than he was at that moment. "Get some rest... you're gonna need it." He turned and started to scale the ladder.

"Dad?" called out Lee. "I'll bring it back."

"You'd better, or I'll kick your ass. It's a good lighter." deadpanned the elder Adama. Lee couldn't help but smile.

_Galactica_ emerged from the jump in the middle of the asteroid field, the massive debris field would provide sufficient cover. Commander Adama stood at the large plotting table in the _operations room,_ a large, secure room used for planning operations, it was separate from the Combat Information Center of a battlestar, which brought together and managed information on the warships status, its surroundings and would supply this to the commanding officer who would normally be in the CIC.

Small models of vipers, raptors, raiders, mining ships and the _Galactica_ were on the large table. Junior officers manning the corners of the tables with large poles would move the pieces across the board as directed. He took his place next to where Kara Thrace was standing, her cane was leaning up against the side of the table. Over her strenuous objections, Commander Adama had kept her out of the fight due to the injuries she had sustained earlier when she ejected after sustaining damage to her viper during combat. Transmissions between the the three decoy mining ships could be heard loud and clear over an unsecured frequency.

"You can bet they heard that." said Adama referring to the Cylon base. "Now they'll try to locate the decoys."

"And when they do?" asked Laura Roslin who was standing next to him.

"If they take the bait, all hell breaks loose."

The speaker crackled as a transmission from Boomer informed them that over 90 Cylon raiders were heading for the decoy ships at high speed.

"They took the bait. Mr. Gaeta, launch strike force one." ordered Adama.

The klaxon sounded, and the order is given for pilots to man their planes. Hot Dog, Hex, Fireball, Nightstalker and a slew of other pilots scrambled up into their cockpits as the deck gang pushed their vipers into the launch tubes. They're soon airborne and streaking towards the Cylon base. It wasn't until Crashdown's report of an additional fifty raiders launching from the base on an intercept course with the incoming strike force that Adama soon realized that the best laid plans never lasted past the first few seconds of combat.

"Fifty raiders?" cried Dr. Baltar. "That means we're outnumbered now five to one?"

"Weren't the decoys supposed to take care of that?" asked the president with a slight detection of concern to her voice.

"The Cylons were too smart for that." replied Adama.

The strike force soon met head on with the defending raiders that outnumbered them and the battle commenced. A latticework of deadly cannon fire filled the skies as the two forces collided. Nightstalker stayed close on his wing mate as they chased down a pair of raiders. Mark waited for his targeting computer to lock onto the raider before depressing the trigger on his navi-hilt. Twin 30mm cannons erupted, sending a stream of death up the exhaust port of the raider. The explosion destroyed the raider, and crippled the one next to it with shrapnel. Hex came in and finished off the raider. Spinner and Fireball had been blasted out of the skies, and the frequency was filled with screams, warnings and pilots keying over one another. It was a madhouse, and Kara winced at the chaos spewing out of the speakers.

"_Galactica, Hot Dog... Heavily engaged. Mission outcome doubtful."_

"They're getting cut to pieces out there." said Kara helplessly. Adama heard enough, walking over to Felix Gaeta he ordered the strike force to abort their mission and return to the ship. Gaeta relayed the message to Dee who transmitted the orders to the strike force. Immediately Lt. Peter "Stubbs" Clarke, who was monitoring enemy force deployment from his Raptor, announced that the Cylon attack force was reversing course from the decoy ships and heading for _Galactica_.

"The Cylons heard our transmission recall, didn't they?" asked the president now very concerned.

Dr. Baltar looked white as a ghost as he came down from the upper level of the operations room to stand by the large plotting table. "Does that mean the first wave of raiders... is ignoring the decoys, and is coming after us?"

"That's exactly what it means." replied Adama curtly.

Baltar watched anxiously as the aides used their long poles to move the raider models along the board in pursuit of the vipers, constant updates caused them to move the models closer and closer to _Galactica_. "So, when are we going to launch the reserve vipers to defend _Galactica?_"

"There are no reserve vipers. Everything is on the board already." he said coldly. "Now we play for all the marbles." He turned immediately towards Kara. "_Starbuck, it's your plan." _A look of confusion spread across the room as Kara limped over to where Felix Gaeta was standing.

"Mr. Gaeta, will you please tell Dee to get on the scrambler... and inform Apollo _the back door is open."_

"Aye, Lieutenant." Gaeta relayed the order and the game soon changed. One of the three decoy ships was a ship formerly registered to _Colonial Movers_. This cargo ship contained six massive detachable cargo containers, one of which in this case, held twelve colonial vipers assigned to Silver Spar squadron. Apollo could see down the line of vipers, it was an incredible sight. Giving a thumbs up sign, all twelve vipers released their metallic clamps, freeing themselves from the side of the cargo ship. Using their thrusters, Strike Force Two sped for the surface of the asteroid undetected.

In the operations room, one of the aides placed a trio of attached model vipers representing Apollo's strike force onto the plotting table. Another aide pushed the pieces across the board to the target. Laura Roslin was stunned.

"Lt. Thrace, why didn't you tell me we had another attack force hidden in the freighters?" she asked. Before Kara could reply the commander answered for her.

"It was my decision." said Adama quietly. "I routinely restrict tactical details to those who need to know." He paused then looked up at Laura. "Old habits die hard."

"So we might still pull this off?" asked the president, a slight smile forming about her lips as her hopes started to rise.

"If Dr. Baltar's target information is correct." replied Adama.

"And whether we get blown to pieces by those Cylon Raiders heading towards us right now." interjected Starbuck.

"Speaking of which, I'm needed in the CIC." said Adama turning on his heel. He exited the operations room and quick timed to the CIC.

Flying just five meters above the surface, Apollo's strike force makes their way to the target. The vipers are spread out over the rocky terrain, periodically adjusting their altitudes to clear any dangerous obstacles of the vertical variety.

"Initial point in five seconds." informed Lee over the comline. Kat was on his port wing, and Hephaestus on his starboard wing. "Flak suppression unit cleared hot... okay, let's do this." Flying through a narrow valley, the attack force flies by a well concealed Cylon surface to air missile battery. The automated battery picks them up, identifies them and opens fire.

"_Incoming. Incoming."_ warns Apollo, as intensive training kicks in, each pilot drops a counter-measure to distract the incoming missiles as they took evasive action. "Weapons free, by the numbers people." One viper was unlucky enough to have its counter-measures fail to intercept the missiles as it zeroed in on, and struck the engines. The viper containing Lt. Mikel "Knuckles" Kale exploded like a supernova. The Cylon base lay less than a mile ahead of the attack force, a wall of anti-aircraft fire soon filled the skies above the base.

The remaining viper pilots armed the air-to-air missiles attached to the hard points beneath their wings. They waited to hear the tone of a missile lock before firing. The missiles flew straight and true for the target, it wasn't until they were less than 100 meters away when they suddenly jerked up and away from their guided trajectory. The Cylons had accessed the guidance frequency and immediately jammed them.

"What's got into these fracking missiles?" yelled a surprised Kat. In the operations room, Kara knew immediately what had happened. The damned Cylon's superior technology broke their frequency code and jammed the missiles, preventing them from striking the target.

"_They're jamming the guidance systems."_ yelled one of the pilots.

"Strike two, Apollo... then we get close enough so we don't need the guidance systems. We'll have to blow this thing manually." The vipers split up and Donald "Chuckles" Perry increases speed for his run. His lack of experience soon catches up to him as he fails to observe the pattern of the Cylon anti-aircraft batteries firing on them. His viper takes a direct hit through the canopy, and the round passes through the left side of Chuckle's chest. He put his gloved hand to the gaping, bloody hole over his heart, the words "_oh frack_" barely escaping his lips as life quickly abandons him. His viper noses down as it flies without guidance from the pilot. It strikes a large rock formation and explodes.

"_Chuckles bought it, he's going down!"_ screamed a female pilot seconds before her own viper is destroyed. Apollo ordered them all out of the flak zone, and to get down low and hug the terrain. Matthew Lensherr was still flying the Mk. II that he was temporarily assigned to. His Mk. VII was still out of service, and Matt cursed the piece of junk that was carrying him into battle. He came in low and barely evaded another SAM battery. He needed to take those out before anyone else was lost. He did a reverse loop and came in fast, the battery launched another salvo of missiles, but with the speed he was traveling at, the missiles couldn't lock onto the heat generated by the three voram engines and turn around to take him out before he took out the battery, and the guidance system controlling the missiles. He depressed the trigger on his KEWS and and filled the rotating missile battery with enough 30mm rounds to cause immediate destruction. The pursuing missiles dropped harmlessly to the surface. For another few minutes, he sought out and destroyed any SAM battery he could locate, all the while praying to gods he didn't believe in that he wouldn't get taken out by any of the SAMS.

Matt watched as another viper got taken out, he cursed loudly as he formed up on Lt. Hoskins, the squadron leader. The two vipers started to climb out of the ravine they found themselves within the base's flak zone. There was just too much of it, and Matt's viper took several hits. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hoskin's viper take multiple hits, the port wing was blown right off and the viper lost all control, streaking towards the surface.

"_Skipper, punch out!_" yelled Matt over the comline. Hoskins pulled the ejection handle and punched out in the middle of the flak field. To his horror, Matt watched as Hoskin's body got riddled with anti-aircraft fire as he floated helplessly in the zero gravity of space. Matt could taste the bile rising in his throat, and barely heard the voice of Lee Adama informing the strike force that he "had an idea, and was going to take a closer look."

**_Galactica_ CIC**

"Commander on deck!" called out Dualla. Adama instructed everyone to be as they were. He was met by an extremely anxious Colonel Tigh at the plotting table, who informed him that the first wave of the Cylon attack force would be on top of them in under three minutes.

"Notify the strike one vipers that they can stop running and blow those bastards to hell." said Adama uncharacteristicly.

The fleeing Strike One attack force reversed course and took on their pursuers with an unmatched ferocity. Even outnumbered, a seasoned Colonial viper pilot was easily the equal to three or four Cylon raiders. There were a few newly minted pilots in strike force one, but each flew superbly. Lt. Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex had a raider in his sights, he was maxing out the top speed of the viper and lined up his shot. A quick burst split the raider in two, and he deftly rolled low to avoid the debris field.

"Nice shot, Nightstalker!" yelled Hot Dog over the comline. Mark Sarnex hadn't felt this alive in a long time, he had come a long way from being a chair-bound paper-pusher for Intelligence. Never did he think for a moment that he would be killing Cylons in a star fighter. Strike force one was a mix of Blue and Red squadrons, and Mark's first time in battle would not be as a member of the Spars, as he was yet to be transferred.

Lee was traveling through the deep trench at high speed. He was below the rim and the flak fire had ceased. He was fast approaching the conveyor belt tunnel that he hoped would lead him directly under the base and safely out of the reach of the anti-aircraft fire. He was taking a huge risk, there was nothing guaranteeing that he wouldn't slam full force into a dead end. He chopped his speed considerably, and the mouth of the conveyor belt was big enough to accommodate his viper. Lee was an excellent pilot, but this excursion was about to put his skills to the ultimate test.

"The conveyor tunnel's clear." Lee announced. "I'm going through it."

"_You're out of your fracking mind, Apollo!_" cried out Kat with no regard to protocol or rank. Matt also couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lee actually was going to attempt to fly _into_ the conveyor tunnel. It was madness. He continued to take out what ever missile battery or point defense turret he could locate, and hoped Lee wasn't making a life-ending mistake.

In the operations room, Kara's eyes went wide with shock at hearing Lee's transmission. _He doesn't have the balls!_ thought Kara. The President came up next to her and Gaeta, asking what was happening.

"Captain Adama's flying into the conveyor tunnel, hoping it will lead him to the refinery." replied a stunned Felix Gaeta.

"Has he gone raving mad? said Baltar. "There's no way to ensure it does anything of the kind."

The conveyor tunnel was a labyrinth of twists and turns, Lee had powered his engines down and was flying on momentum and maneuvering thrusters. His heart beat like a jackhammer, and sweat poured down his brow, stinging his eyes. He didn't dare take his eyes off the tunnel in order to alter his flight suit's environmental controls, that would allow cooler air to flow through his helmet and decrease his perspiration. He was doing his best to control his breathing when his eyes widened at the site before him. He was fast approaching what appeared to be a dead end. He fired his reverse thrusters immediately, and as he slowed he realized that the end of the tunnel steeply sloped up. He pulled back hard on the navi-hilt and followed the tunnel's ascent. He could see stars ahead of him. He was going to come out on the surface. He soon emerged from the tunnel and into the perimeter of the base. All defenses were facing outwards, he was completely safe. Hovering with the aid of zero gravity and maneuvering thrusters, Lee rotated 360 degrees until he spotted what he was looking for. He pulled back the navi-hilt and depressed the thruster pedal which hurled him into the air. He flew over large metal tubes and several structures as he came in for final approach. Under his wings were two bunker-busting bombs, he released them and they flew straight into the open bay of the target. He continued to gain altitude as he raced for safety.

Looking back at the base he saw the explosion, the shock wave quickly caught his viper and tossed it about, but Lee was successful. The surface of the base was a disaster zone, and the entire defense system shut down.

Lee fingered the transmitter. "_Galactica, Apollo... mission accomplished_." The skies cleared of deadly fire and the vipers of strike force two held station. Cheers and whistles went up throughout the CIC and Operations room at the sound of Apollo's voice. "_You can tell Dr. Baltar he was right on the money. It's one hell of a fireworks show, and there's plenty more for us back in the canyon once this place is history." _The fleet would now have enough fuel to last them for a couple of years, it was a massive victory for the Colonials.

In the CIC, commander and executive officer shook hands as Dualla informed the commander that Strike Force One was requesting permission to go after the raiders that were now bugging out. "Tell our people to pursue and destroy." said Adama feeling that his pilots deserved a little payback. Strike Force One had lost two pilots that day, Spinner and Fireball, the remainder of the strike force, including four pilots who suffered serious battle damage, and minor injuries made it back to the _Galactica _after destroying the Cylon attack force. In the end, a total of six pilots were lost, far less than what was expected. The Cylon base was taken, and over the next week its tylium ore excavated and processed, and soon dispersed throughout the thirsty fleet. The rare victory was as desperately needed as the fuel itself, a message was sent to the Cylons, a message that purely stated "enough."

**Three days later...**

Lt. Matthew Lensherr stood at attention as the president pinned a ribbon on each pilot that took part in the attack on the Cylon base. She spoke with great admiration of the staff who crafted the plan for the attack, and the pilots and ship captains of the decoy ships that carried them out. With the death of Lt. Hoskins, Matthew Lensherr once again found himself placed in the position of squadron leader for Silver Spars. This time, it would not be a temporary position, it was now official. Unlike the graduation ceremonies, the media was invited to this ceremony. Laura knew that something like this was exactly what the people of the fleet needed. They needed to know that the men and women of the military had pulled through for them yet again.

After the ceremony, the pilots milled around the decorated hanger bay in the starboard flight pod. This flight pod had been refurbished into a museum when the _Galactica_ was slated to be decommissioned from active military service, and made into a space-faring school. There were plans to put at least half of the flight pod back in service as an active launching and landing facility for vipers and raptors. The other half would remain as is, to be used for large occupancy functions, storage and other uses. A full viper complement of a Colonial Battlestar, depending on the model ranged from 150 to 200 vipers, and 10 to 20 raptors. _Galactica's_ air wing consisted of six raptors and forty Mk. II vipers after the attack on the colonies, so there was no immediate need for two completely functioning flight pods. Tables adorned in red bunting were set out containing coffee and light snacks, and pilots, quorum members, crewman and guests milled about them. Matt had been talking with Starbuck and Apollo when his voice cut off in mid-sentence. He looked past the two wide eyed, and both Kara and Lee turned around to see what Lensherr was looking at.

"Hello Hephaestus!" came a female voice. Matt quickly closed the distance between the two and embraced the tall, very attractive blonde that stood there. The two locked lips for almost a full minute before Lee gently nudged him.

"Ah, Lieutenant... some discipline if you would, we _do_ have fleet news reporters and guests hanging around." Matt slowly composed himself and pulled back slightly from the woman's embrace. He stared at her in wonder, his words coming out at a whisper.

"_I thought you were dead." _said Matt_. _Lee was now very interested in who this stranger could be, he had never seen Matt Lensherr like this before, he looked at Kara who had a smile on her face.

"Who is she?" whispered Lee to Kara.

"Don't you follow Fleet News service?" asked Kara mockingly.

"I'd rather shave with a rusty cheese grater, than listen to the drivel that passes for news." replied Lee condescendingly.

Well, Captain Adama... you're looking at D'Anna Biers, former tabloid investigative reporter for some seedy Caprican rag. She's now a _respectable journalist_ for fleet news. Replied Kara.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34.

Months ago, before the attack on humanity, Matthew Lensherr had met the stunning tabloid reporter D'Anna Biers while on shore leave from the Battlestar _Triton_ while on _Caprica_. The attraction was immediate, close to six feet tall, emerald green eyes that could melt the fiercest heart and wearing a skimpy white bikini she entered his life like a bolt from the blue. The newly promoted Lieutenant had met the woman of his dreams, smart, witty and a predatory sexiness that would have overwhelmed a lesser man. There was something about her that he couldn't place, she was different than just about every woman he had ever been with or known. After the reunion at the ceremony, the two sat quietly in one of _Galactica's_ observation domes. The dome was on the dorsal side of the ship, it harkened back to an earlier time when they were used by navigators to take star sightings to double-check the calculations of the navigation computers. These domes were mostly removed from warships in the Colonial military, due to being made obsolete by advanced technologies. The dome aboard _Galactica_ remained to this day, and were mostly used for star gazing by the crew to pass the time while the ship was still on active duty. To this day, it was unknown how the dome escaped dismantling.

"Gods lass, I truly thought you were dead." said Matt, his head in his hands. "Things had been so busy aboard this ship since the attacks, that I never took the time to check the registry of survivors. I had always intended to, but there was always something going on that kept me for doing it." Matt felt the excuse a hollow one, and if D'Anna felt it, she didn't let on.

"You have nothing to explain, Matthew." began D'Anna in a soothing voice. "Nobody knows better than the people of this fleet how hard you in the military work to keep us safe. I was on assignment aboard the _Gemenon Liner 1701_, a luxury liner that _Colonial One_ found drifting immediately after the Cylon attacks. I was supposed to get some decent footage of a _Tauron_ provisional governor shacked up with his under-aged mistress." Matt's eyes went wide at mention of her being found by _Colonial One_.

"_Colonial One?_ D'Anna... I was picked up by the _Celestra_, then eventually ended up with _Colonial One_ after escaping the Cylon attack on _Caprica_. I never saw you!"

"That's because there was no room on Secretary Roslin's government ship, especially for tabloid journalists." said D'Anna with a wry grin. "The luxury liner was badly damaged when we were found, and they had to abandon it because it wasn't FTL equipped. I was soon transferred over to the _Faru Sadin _where I bided my time until I was able to get to a better ship."

"How did you manage that?" asked Matt knowing full well he wouldn't be surprised by whatever answer she gave.

"Matthew, I would have thought you'd know what I'm capable of. If I want something, _I usually get it._" D'Anna reached over and cupped Matt's face in her soft hands, her lips met his, and the two shared a long intimate kiss, making up for time lost. D'Anna had since landed a job with Fleet News Service and was aboard _Galactica_ to cover the ceremony thrown after the successful raid on the Cylon Tylium base.

D'Anna pulled back from the embrace, "When the attack started, we heard over the wireless that a battlestar orbiting _Caprica_ had been destroyed. It was identified as the _Triton_." Matt could see that she was trying to keep her composure, he pulled her tight to his chest. The smell of her perfume brought him back to the very night he went home with her after dinner at _The Golden Fleece._ He felt intoxicated with the smell of her perfume, the feel of her skin and taste of her lips.

"I was off the ship, down on the surface picking up a squad of new vipers. We were already in the upper atmosphere when the first nuke hit. _Triton_ was just coming into visual range when we watched it get taken out. Only four officers of the _Triton_ survived, it wasn't until we reached _Galactica_ did I learn that a fifth pilot, Lieutenant Alex Quartararo, survived. So where do we go from here?" asked Matt.

"My cabin... to make up for lost time?" purred D'Anna.

"Well I have to request leave, but as a newly promoted squadron leader, I don't see any problems getting approval. _The Faru Sadin... really?_" Matt asked shaking his head.

"Well, my intention is to get a billet aboard _Cloud Nine_. I've been building up some favors with the movers and shakers of the fleet, so with luck, I'll get that ship sooner rather than later."

"If anyone could do it, it's you." The two leaned back on the cushioned bench that had been added to the dome once the navigational chair and equipment was removed. Their lips locked, and soon their clothes were shed.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

Colonel Saul Tigh stepped through the hatch of the CIC for the mid watch. It was obvious to all that he was in a foul mood, and possibly even hung over. For the executive officer, the two states weren't mutually exclusive. He had spent the previous evening on _Cloud Nine_ with his wife Ellen, and the two drank ambrosia late into the night. Commander William Adama would soon be going off duty, he didn't envy the second watch crew, Saul was bound to be miserable to deal with.

Over the next few days, the refinery ship had been working around the clock to process the raw tylium into usable fuel. The taking of that Cylon base couldn't have come at a more desperately needed time. One by one, the civilian ships were slowly refueled, but with strict rationing. Adama had ordered them fueled only enough to jump to the next system, when they had put enough distance between themselves and the star system containing the Cylon base, they would then commence full fueling operations. Tactical officer Felix Gaeta took the few short steps from his station to the plotting table where Tigh stood, sipping strong black coffee.

"Colonel, ship captains reporting in, all civilian ships fueled and ready to jump to the next system." reported Gaeta.

"Well it's about fracking time, Mr. Gaeta. If we spent any more time in this system we'd have to start paying gods-damned rent." snarled Tigh, glaring at him as if it was his fault. "Go ahead... start the jump clock and recall the CAP."

"Aye, sir." replied Gaeta who immediately initiates the jump prep. Navigators carefully planned the FTL jump paths in order to keep a safe distance from planets or other large objects. The entire process from start to finish is twenty minutes when the drive has been offline. Lt. Dave "Roadkill" Wright and Lt. Mark "Nightsalker" Sarnex had CAP duties and were returning to _Galactica _when the comline sparked to life.

"_Roadkill, Galactica... priority intercept for two unidentified contacts bearing 247 carom 398, more __information to follow."_ informed Petty Officer Dualla. She had picked up two intermittent contacts at the far end of the fleet and was attempting a positive identification. The two vipers reversed course and plotted an intercept course for the unidentified contacts. The battlestar's scanners were far more powerful, and would identify them quicker than the vipers.

"_Well, Dee?"_ demanded Tigh irritably. Dualla's slender fingers furiously worked the keyboard at her station, the dradis was tied into the ship's computer where the war book positively identified the contacts as Cylon attack craft.

"Identifying as Cylon raiders, sir."

"Wonderful." replied Tigh sarcastically. "Alright, set condition one throughout the fleet and scramble the alert vipers only. Order the rest of fleet to jump to the new coordinates as soon as their FTL's are spun up." The klaxon sounded, indicating the ship was at condition one. Matt's eyes snapped open at the first sound of the shipboard P.A. The familiar voice of Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla filled the room.

"_Action stations, action stations... set condition one throughout the ship, incoming Cylon raiders. Alert vipers scramble to back up the CAP." _Matt rolled off his rack and raced the short distance to the hanger bay where his viper was waiting on the rails. Slipping past the hanger crews he climbed up into the cockpit where his helmet was handed to him. The viper had already been powered up by a qualified member of the deck gang and Matt double checked his instruments and gauges while waiting to be cleared by the shooter. Moments later, the alert fighters are hurtling down _Galactica's_ launch tubes and on a direct course to back up the CAP. Silver Spar squadron was assigned to alert status on this day, and Matt felt completely at ease with his small group of pilots.

"Roadkill, Hephaestus... alert fighters en route with a three minute ETA, over."

"_Roger that, Hephaestus, we're almost on top of these guys. They've vectored away from us and increased speed, but they're not making any attempts to jump away."_

The two raiders bobbed and weaved in unison, their sleek black metallic bodies sliced through the icy vacuum of deep space. The vipers from the combat air patrol had positioned themselves directly on the raider's six, surprisingly they had made zero effort to evade the colonial vipers.

"Somethings up, these frackers aren't making any effort to evade us." said Nightstalker over the comline. The hair on Lt. Dave "Roadkill" Wright's neck stood straight up. He knew something was up, from past experience, Cylon raiders either attacked, or jumped away to marshal their forces and lead them back to the fleet. Without warning, the two raiders split off under high speed. Roadkill banked his viper to the left and depressed the thruster pedal to increase his speed. Lt. Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex followed protocol and held fast to his wing man.

"Nightstalker, keep an eye on that second raider, I don't want that bastard sneaking up on us." said Wright. The raider made establishing a computer lock extremely difficult, and started to make a beeline for the fleet. In the distance, the civilian fleet started to jump away, but there were far too many left to be placed in danger. The second raider headed directly for Matthew Lensherr's group, and increased its speed to maximum.

Aboard the _Galactica_, Commander Adama had by now returned to the CIC but did not officially take command. He would let his executive officer remain in command during this emergency. "Mr. Gaeta, how much of the fleet remains?"

"Twenty eight ships have safely jumped away, sir."

"_Damn!_ Thirty five slow pokes need to get their collective asses moving, Mr. Gaeta!" said Tigh in a raised voice. _Galactica's_ dradis was keeping track of the lone raider that had broken away from the CAP. It was racing towards the fleet, and now it got even worse.

"_Radiological alarm!" _warned Dualla from her station. Tigh whirled around towards helm control.

"Helm, ninety degrees starboard, increase speed to flank and put us between that slit-eyed, black bastard and the fleet." ordered Tigh. "Defensive fire, I want that nuke taken out." The Galactica lurched forward, causing Adama to grasp the side of the plotting table to maintain his balance. He kept silent, watching his oldest friend, and second in command jump into action. He had issued commands that would mirror his own. As fast as the commands were issued, the raider was that much faster. The massive warship did not have the maneuverability and speed of a warstar or cruiser, and the raider would reach the fleet before _Galactica_ could reposition itself to properly defend it.

"_Roadkill, Galactica... unable to intercept nuke in time." _The _Striker_ was one of the few civilian ships retroactively armed since the attack on the colonies, it was also one of the few that had not made the jump yet. The ship's captain was monitoring the situation, and immediately ordered his ship underway on an intercept course. The ship had twelve point defense turrets, five on each side of the ship, one fore and one aft. It had positioned itself to allow the fore and starboard cannons to bear, opening up a lethal wall of flak which slowed the approaching raider. Roadkill was almost on top of the target, his targeting computer locking onto the raider. The suppression fire from the _Striker_ was starting to come dangerously close. The computer generated image of the raider flashed as the lock was made, twin streams of 30mm cannon fire spit from both wings, decimating the raider without setting off the nuke within it. Farther out, the alert vipers were giving chase to the lone remaining raider.

This was taking far too long, thought Lensherr. Eight Colonial vipers were giving chase to one lone raider, they should have had him by now. This raider wasn't returning fire, and it dipped and looped like a bat in the night. Finally, a glancing hit. Matt's thraxon cannons found their mark, striking the port side engine. The raider spun out of control and was hit two more times from other vipers before it exploded.

"_Galactica_, Hephaestus... raider threats neutralized, all wings returning to base, over." With all vipers aboard, and the fleet safely away, the _Galactica_ finally jumped away to the safety of the new jump coordinates.

**Colonial Day**

Fifty two years ago, the Twelve Colonies of Kobol signed the Articles of Colonization, forming the united government of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. This action was a direct response to the Cylon war against humanity. Every year, colonists across the twelve worlds celebrated this day, the day when colonies ceased being individual sovereign nations, often fighting amongst themselves, and became one. With the obliteration of the twelve worlds, the last remnants of humanity fleeing for their lives, many felt that Colonial Day needed to be observed and celebrated more than ever. At this time, President Laura Roslin had formed a new Quorum of Twelve, representing the surviving citizens of the twelve colonies. A special ceremony debuting the new quorum would take place on the luxury liner _Cloud Nine _on Colonial Day itself_._

Matt had been sitting at the metal table in the center of the stateroom, a bowl of noodles and some freeze-dried vegetables in front of him, he thumbed through a copy of _Fleet News, _one of the fleet periodicals that D'Anna contributed to. She had written a piece on the newly elected _Sagittaron_ delegate to the Quorum, Tom Zarek, a convicted terrorist who, until recently, was incarcerated aboard the _Astral Queen_ prison barge. He had been a prisoner for nearly twenty years after being tried, and found guilty of destroying a government building on _Sagittaron. _

"That terrorist fracker will be nothing but trouble, for Roslin, and the fleet." observed Mark Sarnex reading the article over Matt's shoulder. Matt looked back annoyed, putting the paper down.

"Do you mind?" asked Matt.

"Not at all!" replied Sarnex reaching in to pick up the discarded paper, and helping himself to some noodles. "Your girlfriend covers some peculiar topics, Matt."

"Well Tom Zarek is enough of a study to fill a dozen papers."

"The man is stone-cold, baby-killing terrorist!" snapped Mark. "Did you forget about that daycare center that was in the government building he blew up in the name of freedom? The man should have had an _accident _the day Starbuck and our Marines stormed the _Astral Queen_ when he took Apollo and the others hostage." Mark was talking about the incident that followed when the fleet happened upon a frozen planetoid, and workers in large numbers were needed to extract the frozen water to replenish the battlestar's recently lost water supply. At the reluctant behest of the President, Commander Adama sent his son Lee to seek volunteers willing to work the ice detail in order to buy freedom points. What happened instead, was Zarek instituting an escape plan, where the members of the Galactica boarding party are held hostage until demands are met. Those demands were no less than the resignation of Laura Roslin and her administration, and the start of free and open elections for a new President.

"Yeah, I canna disagree wit ye there, lad. Word has it that Starbuck had a clean head shot, but Apollo fracked it up by pushing him out of the way of the kill shot. Next thing ye know, the commander is allowing the prisoners to run their own ship, and agreeing to a presidential election when Roslin completes Adar's term."

"Rumor mill has it that Apollo facilitated that deal, and the old man and the President were furious." said Mark. Matt didn't respond, he found himself baffled by Lee Adama some days. Sometimes he thought Lee did the things he did, or said the things he said for no other reason but to be contrary to his father. "By the way... have you heard from D'Anna?" asked Mark, changing the subject.

"Not since she went to _Cloud Nine_ to cover Colonial Day and the new quorum. I would have liked to get on that security detail, but Lee and Kara got the gig."

"Shocker." quipped Mark. Boomer had entered the room and immediately walked over to the radio.

"You hear whats going on over on _Cloud Nine?" _She turned on the wall unit and increased the volume._ "_Zarek just made a motion to hold Vice Presidential elections, and was nominated by Marshall Bagott from _Virgon." _"It gets better, the nomination is seconded by Gaius Baltar, of all fracking people." The two men couldn't believe it, but the story was repeated by Sekou Hamilton of the Colonial Gang who was covering the event.

"I'm tellin ya, no good is gonna come from this, mark my words." said Matt. "I can't put my finger on it, but there's _something_ about the Doctor that doesn't sit well wit me."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35.

Long after the electoral celebrations ceased, and the business of life and survival resumed, the Colonial Fleet was now preparing to enter a new sector of space. Raptor 1, piloted by Boomer and Crashdown, had been assigned to a recon mission to search for planets containing possible food and water sources and had finished spooling up its jump drive and signaled _Galactica_.

"_Galactica, this is Raptor 1, preparing to jump to sector 728. Let's hope we find some supplies out there." _came Sharon Valerii's voice over the speaker in the CIC. With that, the fifty ton space craft disappeared from the dradis screen, reappearing moments later well within the gravitational field of a planet now filling the windscreen. Alarms blared throughout the cockpit as the craft shook violently. They had jumped far too close to the lone planet that the astrometrics lab, which is used to acquire fixes on surrounding stars, and are then used in FTL jump calculations, detected earlier. Boomer pulled back hard on the control stick, and used forward thrusters to slow her forward momentum.

"Gaeta that fracking idiot. You can't plan a jump that close to a planet. What if we jumped into it?" growled Boomer.

Crashdown laughed off the close call. "It was great. It's fine...we made it...we're cool." Both pilots looked out the cockpit window at the blue green planet before them, and the feeling that flooded the compartment was palpable. Alex unfastened his seat harness and made his way forward, he couldn't believe the sight before him. Vast oceans, continents, white clouds. He immediately returned to his station and started to take readings of the planet. "Okay. The atmosphere reads as...Nitrogen, oxygen. Looks like enough CO2 for green leafy things." smiled Crashdown. "This could be the little planet that solves all of our problems!"

Boomer's eyes darted across the planet, she felt her whole body go numb. She vaguely heard her ECO ask if she thought this planet was Earth. She knew deep down that it wasn't, this planet was not Earth, but a place far more important. "Crash, let's get some digitals of the surface and jump back to the fleet." said Boomer in a tone of voice that was slightly above a whisper.

**Cylon Occupied _Caprica_**

Lieutenant Karl "Helo" Agathon had been on the run for his life ten days short of two months now. After the viper squadron he was attached to was destroyed at the onset of the Cylon attack, he, along with his pilot, Lt. Sharon "Boomer" Valerii made an emergency landing on _Caprica _after sustaining damage during the attack. After tending to his own injuries, and Valerii completing repairs on the Raptor, they are soon surrounded by survivors of the nuclear holocaust begging and demanding safe transport off the dying world. After a lottery is held to issue limited seats aboard the Raptor, Helo decides to give up his seat to Dr. Gaius Baltar with the hope that his intelligence and scientific training will offer more to the survivors of humanity than his skills as a military officer and pilot. Unknown to him, his pilot, Sharon Valerii, was a Cylon with multiple copies. One of those copies presently was with the fleet.

Six days after landing on _Caprica_, the survivors he was traveling with started to die off due to radiation poisoning. He had continued to secretly administer himself anti-radiation injections, and when the last of the survivors died off he split off on his own trying to reach a military spaceport in Delphi no doubt under Cylon control by now. He is soon captured by Cylon centurions in the presence of a blond human female. He is then rescued by Valerii, not knowing that she is a Cylon herself, nor that she was not the same Sharon Valerii who reluctantly left him on _Caprica_ less than a week before. The two eventually make their way towards the spaceport at Delphi. In the meantime, Valerii had manipulated Agathon into admitting his feeling for her, and the two soon consummated their new found relationship in a forested area of _Caprica_, all of which was part of a Cylon plan to mate human and humanoid Cylon to produce offspring. The plan goes wrong when the Caprica-Valerii actually falls in love with Agathon, and then tries to escape her fellow Cylons.

Once at Delphi, Agathon receives the shock of his life when he discovers _another_ Sharon Valerii in the company of multiple copies of the blond Cylon that Sharon herself shot over a month before. He soon realized that she too was a Cylon agent, and runs for his life, leaving Sharon behind. She soon catches up with him in the city, where much to her surprise, Agathon actually shoots her in the arm instead of killing her outright.

**Battlestar _Galactica_ – Infirmary**

Doc Cottle stood outside the door of the isolation room, watching as Commander Adama read the report he had prepared. Adama's craggy face wincedat what he had just read. _"Are you sure of this?" _he demanded.

"Commander, I've been this ship's chief medical officer for nearly a decade." said Sherman Cottle lighting up a cigarette. "I've seen what stress can do to a young crewman cramped aboard a warship for months and years on end, away from home, from family. Lt. Valerii swears her service pistol discharged accidentally while she was cleaning it, but my experience tells me otherwise." Adama reread the chart then handed it back to Cottle.

"As soon as she's stabilized, I want a full psychological evaluation done on her. I can't believe that young woman would try to shoot herself, I've known her too long... it just _doesn't_ fit!" said Adama pointedly.

"Yes sir, I'll see to it immediately." replied Cottle wanting to end the conversation. He never liked when his professional recommendations were second guessed, but he also knew William Adama, respected him highly, if he had faith in the young, injured pilot within the next room than perhaps there was more to her than meets the eye. He would do as ordered.

The weight of the 9mm service pistol that Matthew Lensherr held in his hand was 1.64 lbs fully loaded. The lightness of the weapon is due to polymers used in its construction. Polymers are used extensively in its design, for resistance to corrosion and reduced weight. At a distance of fifty meters this weapon was highly effective, and the man holding this particular semi-automatic weapon was an expert marksman. Lensherr had handled firearms since the age of ten, like most farmers, livestock was protected from predators by rifles, scatter guns and occasionally pistols by the farmers and members of their families. The report of the weapon was deafening within the firing range, and all occupants within wore protective hearing devices.

The smell of gunpowder assaulted his nostrils, yet to Lensherr it wasn't necessarily unpleasant. Lt. Mark Sarnex stood to his right and to the back, a chronometer in his hand. Without warning, he yelled out. _"Kill!" _With lightning speed, Matt dropped to a combat stance and drew his service weapon from its nylon mesh holster and emptied the magazine down range. With the magazine emptied, he quickly withdrew another clip from the same type of nylon mesh ammunition holder which held magazine clips either horizontally or vertically attached to the pistol belts worn by marines or pilots. He slapped it into the bottom of the weapon and proceeded to empty its contents into the target at the far end of the range. The target was a life-sized thick paper cut-out of a Cylon Centurion, the lethal metallic automaton that functions as the basic foot-soldier of the Cylon ground forces.

"_Time!" _yelled Matt holstering his weapon. Sarnex had stopped the timer the moment the final round was ejected and the slide locked back indicating the weapon was empty. He reached over and depressed a button on the side of the partition that separated his lane from the next. A track attached to the ceiling carried the target from the rear of the range to within inches from the shooter's box. Most of the Centurion's head had been obliterated from the thick paper, and several holes were present in the center mass. As close to perfection as Mark Sarnex had ever seen. He held the chronometer up close for Matt's inspection and a thin smile creased the young Aerilonian's lips. "Not bad if I may so humbly say."

"Matt, there's nothing humble about you when it comes to killing Cylons." replied Mark.

"So what's the inside scoop on _Kobol_, is this the real deal or what?" asked Matt changing subjects.

"Well, in my unofficial capacity as _rumor control officer," _began Mark with a sly grin and a wink, "I've found out that the President and her _spiritual advisor _have been pouring over the recon photos of the planet, and are absolutely sure that this is indeed _Kobol_, ancestral home world of humanity. The commander authorized a recon team of three raptors to do a complete surface survey of the planet.

"Crashdown said he saw continents and oceans, I wonder if we'll stop here and settle the planet?" mused Matt.

"You better hope not, according to Zeus, he warned the leaders of the tribes that any return to _Kobol_ would carry with it a cost in blood." said Mark gathering up his spent cartridge shells.

"Since when are _you_ religious?" shot back Matt.

"Hey, an efficient rumor control officer needs to be kept abreast of a good many things."

"Who's on the recon mission?"

"That hasn't been released yet. Apollo is supposed to be meeting with the old man to discuss it. The one thing I know for a fact is that there will not be any of us viper jocks in on the party."

"Not unless they found a way to make the vipers FTL capable." quipped Matt gathering up his own spent shell casings.

"What are you doing tonight? Our squadron's off rotation until 1600 tomorrow." asked Sarnex.

"_Cloud 9_, gonna meet D'Anna for dinner. I'm heading out on the 1500 hour shuttle. What about you?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I'm going to take in a game of Pyramid that the knuckle-draggers are holding in the hanger bay, then meet up with that ensign, the dental hygienist for a drink or three."

"The one wit the big cans, mate? I hear she's the closest thing this ship has to a dentist."

"Affirmative. She's very oral." replied Sarnex, trademark white toothy grin present.

The two friends parted ways and Matt, after stopping by his quarters, switched out of his utilities and threw on a pair of civilian jeans that he won in a pyramid game, tight black tee shirt with his squadron insignia over the left breast pocket and a well-worn pair of boots, also won in a card game. The luxury liner, _Cloud 9, _ran two of its own shuttles throughout the fleet. For a nominal fee, or something of equivalent worth in bartering, one could be picked up from their ship and transported to the luxury liner for a day or night of recreation, dinner or companionship. Their pantries had long ago ran out of the finely marbled beef from _Aerilon_, and exquisite seafoods taken from _Aquaria_. Even the delicious pastries, and rare wines that were once served to guests as they traveled throughout the colonies were now gone. Algae harvested from rare planets and planetoids along the journey, had been transmogrified into bread stuff, noodles, crackers, and even steak given the proper food dyes. None of which fooled anyone, however they contained high levels of protein which were vital to human survival.

Once the shuttle came to a complete stop on the deck of the luxury liner, Matt had removed his seat belt and stood, waiting to disembark the crowded shuttle. Stepping out onto the deck he was struck at how clean and orderly the hanger was, very unlike the hanger bay of the _Galactica_. Not that senior chief Galen Tyrol presided over a filthy hanger bay, in fact, the hanger bay of _Galactica_ was in excellent condition for a battlestar of her age. Chief Tyrol made sure the bays were kept inspection-ready at all times, or at least when the ship wasn't under combat conditions. Looking around the bay, Matt spotted no rolling tool chests, vipers in various stages of repair, knuckle-draggers sporting greasy orange jumpsuits or the sparks from a welder. It was neat, quiet and orderly. Private security guards neatly attired in black with the ships logo embroidered on the breast pocket, gave the occasional directions to lost passengers, or those visiting _Cloud 9_ for the first time. In its heyday, this ship had been all but impossible to get accommodations for. You either had to _be_ somebody, or _know_ somebody of importance. Today, Matthew Lensherr got a coveted boarding pass thanks to _who_ he knew, Miss D'Anna Biers.

A tall security guard approached as Matt made is way through the line. "Lieutenant Lensherr?" Matt was slightly taken by surprise. He replied in the affirmative and was quickly led down a separate hallway from the other passengers. The two entered a private lift which took them quickly up several decks. When the door slid open, Matt exited into a private dining room. A large rectangular observation window, no doubt made of foot thick glass revealed an incredible star field. The guard stood within the lift, and D'Anna appeared from the shadows, handing the guard what Matt could only guess was a gratuity. The lift doors slid quietly closed. D'Anna turned to face Matt, the flames from the candles flickered off her verdant eyes, a cream-colored silk robe tied with a black sash was all she wore. From a tray she picked up two tall glasses filled with ambrosia, handing one to Matt she then guided him over to the sofa by the star field. Taking a sip from his glass, he quickly realized that he was drinking high end ambrosia, and not the imitation stuff that was being produced over on the _Prometheus, _an "off the grid" freighter reputed to be involved in the black market. A long, passionate kiss was shared, and D'Anna leaned back on the sofa, the tall glass gingerly held between long, delicate fingers.

"Welcome aboard _Cloud 9_, Matthew." purred D'Anna. She had been observing Matt's reactions from the moment he entered the private dining room. "I take it that Adama doesn't often allow his pilots shore leave?"

"Well I canna say he does _not _allow shore leave, the old man is pretty decent to work for. But wit the fracking Cylons popping up as often as they do, it's not tactically smart to have your sole defenders away from their vipers in great numbers, or frequently. Shore leave for viper and raptor pilots are carefully planned for."

"Sounds absolutely dreadful," said D'Anna in mock horror. "I will just have to talk to Commander Adama about this outrage." D'Anna smiled and refilled Matt's glass. "I missed that wonderful Aerilonian accent of yours, it's music to my ears to hear it again."

Matt laughed heartily. "_Wonderful Aerilonian accent? _You are the very first person I have _ever _heard put Aerilonian and wonderful in the same sentence. Half the time I take a load of felgercarb over the raspiness of me voice, and the nitwits who canna understand what I'm saying. It takes a great deal of effort to pronounce my words like some fracking Caprican dignitary." said Matt with great effort to give proper pronunciation to each word.

"Well my hot, young fire god... I understand you perfectly, not matter if it's true Aerilonian or fake Caprican." said D'Anna now letting the black sash fall to the floor, allowing the silk robe to open, revealing the soft, creamy complexion of her bare skin to be exposed. She leaned in close, sealing her lips to his.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36.

**CIC – **_**Galactica**_**  
**  
It was just under two minutes when Raptor 275 reappeared on _Galactica's_ dradis. Immediately, Adama knew something had just gone wrong high above _Kobol_. He and Colonel Tigh had just been briefed by tactical officer Lt. Gaeta on confiscated Cylon transponders. The first transponder had been discovered by Dr. Gaius Baltar on the bottom of the dradis console shortly after the attacks, placed there by Cylon agent Aaron Doral. Another, was confiscated from another humanoid Cylon Leoben Conoy, who was discovered hiding on one of the ships in the fleet earlier.

"What do you have for me, Dee?" asked Adama walking up to her station.

"Raptor 275 reports they encountered Cylons immediately after jumping into _Kobol_ orbit. One confirmed Base ship. Raptor 3 was destroyed after colliding with an enemy fighter... no survivors, commander." reported Dualla sadly.

"Raptor 1?" inquired Tigh.

"Last observed under powered descent with damage."

"Alright, notify _Colonial One_ of the overall situation. I would like the President and the CAG to meet me in my quarters within the hour." ordered Adama.

**Commander Adama's Quarters – Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

President Laura Roslin swiftly entered the hatch leading into Adama's quarters, her chief of staff fast on her heels. "How many people did we lose?" she asked, the concern clearly evident in her voice.

"Ten souls aboard Raptor three." replied Apollo. "Raptor one... last visual contact was seen under power flight heading towards the surface." Commander Adama cut straight to the chase of the meeting.

"We need a way to take out the base ship before we can attempt a rescue." he said bluntly.

"Starbuck is already working on a plan using the captured raider to get a nuke into the base ship." said Tigh. Commander Adama was clearly surprised and turned towards Lee who was clearly furious at being caught off guard having not been in the loop of one of his pilot's plans. After informing his father that he would talk to Starbuck immediately, he stormed out of the cabin, anger mounting with every step. This was something that just was not done in the military, and certainly not done under his command. Any tactical plan involving the air wing was brought to the commander by the CAG, not by one of his pilots. Lee knew that Kara Thrace was an excellent pilot, and he grudgingly admitted that her ability to "think outside the box" had been, and continued to be, a valuable asset. His anger stemmed from not only the fact that she bypassed him completely, a lack of military discipline as far as the chain of command went, but a personal affront to him due to their relationship that at best was complicated.

**Luxury Quarters – **_**Cloud 9**_**  
**  
Sleep had come quickly and easily, for the first time in months, Matthew Lensherr entered the sweet oblivion of sleep without tossing and turning, without the sound of loud snoring or flatulence from his fellow pilots sleeping in nearby bunks. He had fallen asleep in the arms of a beautiful woman that had long ago captured his heart. The silk sheets that caressed their naked bodies felt luxurious, allowing him to momentarily forget his daily life aboard a cramped, past-its-prime Battlestar protecting a civilian fleet fleeing for their lives from the Cylons that ruthlessly pursued them.

Matt had enjoyed the company of a variety of women throughout his career in the military. Being a viper pilot in the Colonial military went a long way in landing willing females, and like many of his fellow cocky pilots, Matt had taken advantage of some of the perks of his profession. D'Anna Biers had been different, she hadn't thrown herself shamelessly at the viper pilot, or stalked him as some had. She barely noticed him that day on the beach, and left him breathless. His subconscious mind flashed back to his previous Battlestar, the _Triton_.

"Hephaestus, _Triton_... your bogey is at 270 carom 116, speed 360, over." came the voice of Triton's communication's officer. The bogey was an Astra IV cargo shuttle, medium sized and fast. The sixty foot craft was also FTL capable, something that Matt did not want the pilot to utilize.

"Roger that Triton, we're moving in to intercept." replied Matt over the comline. His wing man was Greenbean, and the two vipers peeled off in the direction of their prey. The pilot of the shuttle had been identified by an informant as being a drug smuggler from _Gemenon_. His latest contract had him transporting fifteen hundred boxes of Folioles, a brand of cigars. A legal product throughout the colonies, unfortunately for the smuggler, these cigars lacked the mandatory tax stamps, making them illegal. Once he took them off planet, he added illegal transportation to the charge. Normally the Colonial Military didn't involve themselves in such small crimes, but after the informant notified the authorities, the pilot had taken off, and was able to elude Caprican police raptors in pursuit. A BOLO (Be On Look Out) had been issued for the shuttle, and by luck, had jumped within the security perimeter of the _Triton's_ battle group. Dradis scans identified the shuttle's transponder and did a routine check, discovering the warrant for its apprehension. The CAP was immediately redeployed.

"Hephaestus, Greenbean... he's increasing speed."

"Let's na let em spool up his ftl's, increasing speed to overtake." replied Hephaestus depressing the thruster pedal. He worked the keys of his on-board computer and ran a search for the specific class of shuttlecraft. The Astra IV immediately appeared on the screen, an exact match of the craft now trying to elude him. With a few keystrokes, he obtained the information that he needed from the schematics. "Got it, bean. Ftl control in the underbelly, rectangular in shape, about two meters in the aft section."

"A few well-placed 30mm rounds should disable it." replied Greenbean.

"Move in bean, and be sure to get a clean hit, we don't need the risk of destroying the ship." warned Matt. The two vipers quickly overtook the shuttle, and Matt cut across the bow of the ship very close, enough to startle the pilot, and perhaps distract him from jumping away. His wing man, Lieutenant Peter "Greenbean" Carrington from _Sagittaron_ dove beneath the shuttle, using his targeting computer he locates the FTL drive of the shuttle and locks onto it. A quick depression of the trigger unleashes short bursts of cannon fire which strikes its target dead center. The shuttle pilot isn't stupid, knowing his FTL drive has been taken out, he chops his speed. Matt switches over to unicom.

"Attention Gemenon shuttle Constellation six-two-niner-five, this is colonial viper 271, you are directed to cut power to your engines and be prepared for boarding by colonial raptors. Any resistance will be met with deadly force, please respond...over."

"_Colonial viper 271 this is Constellation 2695...message received and understood...over_." replied the pilot with a sigh. The pilot was aware that he faced the possibility of at least a one year sentence at a prison facility for trafficking fumarellos lacking the tax stamp. Two of _Triton's_ raptors escorted the shuttle back to the battlestar where the pilot and illegal cargo would be handed over to Caprican authorities within days at a rendezvous point.

**Pilot's ready room – Battlestar **_**Triton**_

Matt and Greenbean walked through the hatch to a standing ovation from fellow pilots. The CAG gestured both to stand at the front of the podium. Matt inwardly grimaced, no good was going to come from this. Both men stood informally as the CAG and Green squadron's leader stepped forward, each holding two ribbons with what looked like gold-plated "Mushies" hanging from it.

"Pilots of the _Triton_... may I present Lieutenants Lensherr and Carrington, recipients of the '_golden mushies' ribbon of valor!"_ bellowed the commander of the air group in mock seriousness. In civilian law enforcement circles, police officers were notorious devourers of coffee and mushies, portrayed to be ordering mushies by the dozen when going through the local coffee shop drive thru. Innumerable  
parodies, and cartoons of overweight police officers stuffing mushies, a questionably nutritious foodstuff that is multi-colored and typically cube-shaped, in vast quantities into their mouths. Police officers found little humor in it. It was normally seen as uncomplimentary, almost disrespectful.

"To the two viper pilots who obviously stood in the wrong line when seeking employment... Great job on apprehending a vicious criminal. You both should be commended with stopping the crime of the century, cubits well spent by the Colonial Military." The awards were meant as a joke, but many in the military found it beneath them to be used for such petty assignments. They felt that smugglers were best dealt with local law enforcement, not elite viper pilots aboard Colonial warships. Both men came to attention and saluted the presenters, executed an about-face, and turning towards their fellow pilots in the seating section, displayed obscene hand gestures simultaneously.

"Alright gentlemen, please take your seats and cut the chatter... fun time is concluded." announced the CAG. Matt and Greenbean took their assigned seats, exchanging handshakes and high fives with their fellow pilots. The CAG took his place behind the podium and opened a binder of his notes. "Okay... on a serious note, good job on stopping that smuggler you two, while we all hate to continuously have to bail out local law enforcement, we do have a duty to uphold and enforce the laws of the colonies. Those untaxed twelve hundred boxes of Folioles will never bother innocent people again!"

"_Twelve hundred?_ I thought there was _fifteen_ hundred boxes?" observed a pilot loudly. The CAG merely smiled. It was obvious that 300 boxes of the expensive fumarellos would not make their way back to _Caprica_.

"There must have been some sort of accounting error, lieutenant." he replied. "Now, onto bigger and better things. There will be a new addition to Battlestar Group 39 in the next few weeks, the latest model Stealthstar, the latest and greatest in Colonial stealth craft. I have yet to be informed by the old man as to what we'll be doing with this craft, but just by its nature, you know it'll be for black ops."

"Will there be any shore leave when we reach _Caprica?_" asked Lensherr.

"Doubtful Hephaestus, as far as I know we'll be handing over the smuggler, his shuttle and cargo to local police. I don't think you'll be able to hook up with your celebrity girlfriend this time around." he said referring to D'Anna Biers. It had been public knowledge that Matt was involved with the well-known gossip journalist. "_Lensherr?_" Matt's eyelids snapped open.

"_Lieutenant Lensherr, contact Galactica CIC... Lieutenant Lensherr, contact Galactica CIC immediately."_ announced the public address system after three chimes.

"Are ye Fraking kidding me? _I'm on leave!_" shouted Matt towards the wall mounted speaker. D'Anna had pulled herself up, straddling Matt's waist. She reached over to the nightstand and picked up the phone, handing it to the man beneath her. With a scowl, Matt took the phone and was soon connected to the _Galactica_. Dualla's voice filled the earpiece.

"Sorry to bother you Hephaestus, but this is a recall." she said. Matt knew better than to ask her what the situation was, the line was not a secure one and if he was being recalled from leave there was a good reason. Matt replaced the phone in its receiver and turned to D'Anna.

"I've been recalled to _Galactica_." he said softly.

"Did they tell you what for?"

"No, and it's doubtful they would have even if I asked." replied Matt. D'Anna pulled herself down to face level with Matt. She kissed him gingerly on the lips then drew back. "I'm sorry... " She put her fingertips to his mouth to quiet him.

"Don't worry, they'll be other opportunities Matthew. Come back to me when you're able."

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_** - Combat Information Center  
**  
In the "core," offering a bird's eye view of the busy command deck below, Commander Adama and his second-in-command spoke privately about Kara Thrace's surprise disappearance with the captured raider. This was to be a training run on another component of her mission to destroy the Base ship now orbiting _Kobol_, but in a private conversation with Adama over a secured line, she abruptly accused him of lying to her and the fleet regarding _Earth_. She engaged the raider's faster-than-light drive and disappeared. Tigh was incensed. "She's crossed the line before, but this is so far beyond the pale-" Adama quickly cut him off.

"She wouldn't have done this on her own. She was coerced." he stated with finality.

"No one coerces Starbuck. Believe me, I've tried." shot back Tigh. Dualla interrupted the two from the deck below.

"Commander, I have the president on the line."

"Bear witness. Put your headset on." ordered Adama as he picked up the nearby receiver, and patched Tigh's headset in so he could hear the conversation. The line crackled as the transmission between both ships was opened. "Madam President, moments ago Lt. Thrace took the Cylon Raider on an unscheduled, and unauthorized jump. Do you have any knowledge of this incident?" Laura Roslin knew at that exact moment that she had entered a critical stage of her presidency. She had openly defied Adama, worse, she had done it on a military matter that held all their lives in the balance, much less her presidency. She was not going to play the game, fencing with William Adama was a dangerous move, one she would not participate in. The words easily rolled off her tongue.

"_The answer to your question is: yes!"_ She admitted that she had directed Starbuck to jump the captured raider back to _Caprica_ to retrieve the 'arrow of Apollo,' in order to use it to help locate the correct path to _Earth_. Adama's anger was mounting by the second, he spoke of how they had both agreed this subject was a military decision. He barely listened to her words of responsibility to the citizens of the fleet and its future. She further attempted to rationalize her decision, but Adama cut her off, demanding her resignation. Unsurprisingly, she refused. He informed her that he was immediately terminating her presidency. Tigh was immediately elated, since day one, Laura Roslin had been a pain in everyone's ass, and now his old friend and superior officer was rectifying a mistake brought upon them by what he thought was a disastrous order of presidential succession. Adama however, knew that the president would not go down without a fight.

Two hours later, after having the CAP isolate _Colonial 1_, and leaving Tigh and Lee to handle Roslin, Adama went over the final details of the plan in his head. The Cylon Basestar orbiting _Kobol_ was his main concern at the moment, it was preventing them from rescuing the downed raptor containing the vice president and crew. The president's actions forced him to improvise, he closed his personal log and and made his way to sick bay where Lt. Sharon "Boomer" Valerii was recuperating from an accidental gunshot wound to the face. He was pained to see the bloody bandages taped securely over the damaged flesh to what he always considered a very pretty face. There had been whispers that perhaps this had not been an accident, rumors he squashed forcefully when hearing them. He placed great faith in Boomer for some reason. Amongst many of the raptor pilots to choose from, his gut told him that Boomer would not fail in the mission.

Matt finally knew why he had been recalled, his viper led the tip of the assault, three vipers escorted three raptors bearing the assault teams on _Colonial 1_. They approached the president's ship from aft with instructions to attach themselves to various points of the hull, and access the ship by cutting through the hull plating. Once aboard they would make their way to the president's deck, and finally to her cabin where Tigh and the Marines would take her into custody. He didn't envy the men boarding that ship. The men and women that made up the president's security detail, as well as Colonial 1's own security would fight them all the way.

He had been briefed on Starbuck's actions at the president's behest, he couldn't believe it. He knew Kara had a certain degree of faith in the gods, but she very seldom talked about it. For Kara Thrace, her faith was a very personal thing, not shared easily. To think that she would run off against orders to retrieve some religious artifact that would allegedly lead them to _Earth_ was absurd. It just didn't fit in with the pilot he had come to know so well.

**Raptor 1 – On Final Approach to Basestar Above **_**Kobol**_

Lt. Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson glanced nervously at the beeping Cylon transponder secured to the ceiling of the cabin. She could taste the sweat dripping down the sides of her cheek within her helmet. "You think this thing is working?"

"We're about to find out." replied Boomer nervously. They were gliding through space on a direct course for the massive Cylon capital ship before them. The ship rotated slowly high above the blue green planet, known as the home of the gods. Both women held their breath as a squadron of raiders streaked by them. The transponder was doing its job and they closed to effective firing range. It wasn't until Boomer heard Racetrack mutter "_frak"_ that she realized something was wrong. "What?"

"The bomb release is jammed, I can't free it."

Boomer closed her eyes, now what? She thought. This was supposed to be a quick 1-2-3- mission. Jump in, fire the nuke, jump away. She couldn't fail Adama. There was only one solution. "we can dock inside the ship." she stated flatly. Racetrack couldn't believe her ears.

"_Excuse me?"_

"They think we're Cylons, they'll let us pass." replied Boomer trying to sound confident. "We can release the bomb manually and drop the nuke inside the ship itself." There was no further discussion, she brought the raptor in close to one of the cavernous bays and entered. It was monstrous, the interior unlike anything she could imagine. The interior of the ship looked organic, flesh-like inter-meshed with technology. She navigated the catacomb and emerged into a large bay, a variety of Cylon craft were docked throughout the bay, she spotted an area far enough away from those craft and landed. With final instructions to her ECO, Boomer departed the raptor to manually release the nuke that was attached beneath the ship. She stepped upon purplish - pink flesh, barely covering conduit, and steel decking. The walls around her seemed to pulsate with life, triggering a feeling of fear, awe and familiarity.

_**Colonial 1**_** – President's office**

Marines had finally breached the hatch leading to the office of President Laura Roslin and took up position against the president's security detail. Experienced men armed with only sidearms formed a wall against the larger, black-clad men carrying assault rifles wearing body armor. Both sides knew what the outcome would be. The ranks stepped aside to allow Colonel Tigh to enter the room.

"Madam President, no one needs to get hurt here."

"Then why don't you get off my ship, Colonel?" replied Laura coldly. Not bothering to hide his enjoyment, Tigh loudly proclaimed her under arrest. The room was deathly silent, neither side lowering their weapon. Lee was fidgeting, something Tigh took notice of from the moment their raptor departed _Galactica._

"No. We're not doing this!" said Lee sharply.

"I'm in command here, Captain." replied Tigh somewhat surprised.

"Colonel, this is wrong." pleaded Lee.

"_You're relieved... fall back!_" Tigh turned back towards Roslin and started to repeat his proclamation of her arrest when Lee moved to the side quickly, drawing his sidearm and pointing it at Tigh's head.

"Colonel, tell these Marines to fall back."

"Murderous rage filled Tigh's body, he couldn't believe what was now happening. "This is mutiny... you know that." sneered Tigh.

"Yes... I do." replied Lee calmly. "But you can tell my father I'm listening to my instincts. And my instincts tell me that we cannot sacrifice our democracy just because the President makes a bad decision." Then to the surprise of all present, Laura's voice boomed across the room, ordering all the men to lower their weapons. Lee was surprised, when her order was meant for him as well. She stated she would not allow gunfire between the two groups, and surrendered. Looking Tigh directly in the eye she merely said "Let's go."

**Raptor 1- Basestar  
**  
"_Sharon?"_ There it was again, someone calling her name, and it wasn't her ECO. "Concentrate on the mission, damn it!" she said to herself quietly. Her heart was racing a kilometer a minute, beads of sweat dripped into her eyes. She finally managed to disconnect the missile manually, it fell to the fleshy deck with a loud 'thwap.'

"_Sharon!"_ This time the voice was louder, and seemed to be coming from all around her. She spun around to see where it was coming from, that's when she spotted movement. Something... no, someone was moving towards her. The lone figure was within a dozen feet when it emerged fully from the shadows. Sharon Valerii at that moment, thought she was going mad. She tapped the oxygen gauge on her space suit to make sure it was functioning properly. It was. She was face to face with a naked version of herself, and that version soon had company. Close to a dozen copies of herself stood before her smiling.

"This isn't happening." cried Boomer. One stepped forward and reached out to her, opening the plexiglass portal of her helmet. Surprisingly she did nothing to stop her, she was frozen. The copy of her softly spoke. "_You're confused, and scared... but it's okay."_ Sharon realized she could breath freely, and that is when a realization struck her.

"_I'm not a Cylon!"_ she said with all the force she could muster. "I'm Sharon Valerii, I was born on _Troy._ My parents were Katherine and Abraham Valerii." she protested, tears started to well up in her eyes. The copies looked sympathetic, and each spoke, finishing each other's sentences as if they were one.

"You can't fight destiny, Sharon. It catches up with you, no matter what you do." They started to step back from her. "Don't worry about us, we'll see you again. We love you Sharon, and we always will." Boomer turned and ran for the other side of the raptor, jumping up on the wing she started to bang the hatch for Racetrack to open. Ignoring her ECO's questions as to where her helmet was, she fired up the engines and prepared for immediate lift-off. She was almost at full speed trying to navigate the catacombs of the landing bay, she soon could see stars ahead. Breaking free of the Basestar she proceeded to put as much distance between her and the raptor as possible. Margaret glanced at the dradis, this was going to be close. The blast was blinding, followed by a violent shock wave that the raptor jumped out of the way of just in time. The skies high above _Kobol_ shined brilliantly for a split second. The Basestar was gone.

**CIC - Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

Adama listened to the sitrep from Tigh. The threat presented by Laura Roslin had been neutralized, but then came the bad news he wasn't expecting. "He put his weapon right to my head...said to tell you he was following his instincts, whatever the hell that means." said Tigh over the phone from Roslin's office.

"Bring him here." ordered Adama. Tigh inquired about Roslin next. We put her in the brig." Adama cut the transmission and replaced the phone into its receiver. What the hell was Lee thinking? His thoughts interrupted by the sound of the dradis.

"Dradis contacts! It's Boomer and Racetrack, sir." informed Gaeta. Adama ordered her transmission to be put over the loud speaker.

"_Galactica_, Boomer. Mission accomplished. Repeat mission accomplished...the basestar is history." A cheer went up along the crew manning the CIC, and Adama allowed himself a slight smile. He ordered the raptor to return to the ship.

**Commander's quarters**

With Laura Roslin safely secured in _Galactica's_ brig, Adama started to plan the jump to _Kobol_. Lee was under arrest, Kara was AWOL to _Caprica_, he needed someone he could trust. The Marine sentry opened the hatch to his quarters.

"Commander Adama, you wanted to see me sir?" said Matt Lensherr standing at attention. Adama looked up from the paperwork he was reading.

"Ah Lieutenant, thank you for coming so quickly. As you know by now, Captain Adama has been placed under arrest, and my second senior pilot is AWOL. I need a CAG, and I need one now. Do you have any reservations about stepping up to the plate temporarily?"

"None sir!" replied Matt crisply.

"Very well then, as of 1300 hours you are hereby promoted temporarily, to Captain, and commander of the _Galactica's_ air wing." Adama stood up from behind his desk and extended his hand. "Don't let me down, Hephaestus." Matt shook Adama's hand and then came to attention snapping out a salute.

**Combat Information Center  
**  
Matt stood silently as Apollo was brought in, he was manacled in the front and stood between two large Marines. The two men locked eyes, and Lee managed a slight smile. Matt nodded. Adama soon entered with Tigh right behind him. He stopped directly in front of his son, yet said nothing. He didn't have to. Even halfway across the room Matt could read the disappointment in the senior Adama's face. He turned and walked away. Tigh's facial expression towards Lee was nothing short of contempt. Raptor 1's crew finally arrived in the CIC. They were greeted by crew members with handshakes and back slaps. They both stopped and came to the position of attention in front of the Commander.

"Congratulations to both of you. You carried out a very difficult and dangerous mission, and you did it..._despite_ any personal misgivings you may or may not have had." said Adama, this clearly aimed at his own son. "And for that, I am very proud." He reached his hand out to Racetrack who took it firmly, replying thank you. Turning to Boomer he reached out to take her hand, not seeing the sidearm firmly within it. The report of the first shot was deafening, the round striking Adama just above the navel, the second shot three inches higher and to the right sent the Commander sprawling back onto the plotting table. A pool of blood quickly formed beneath him.

Everything appeared to be moving in slow motion to Matt's eyes, he saw the weapon slowly raise up just before the first shot, not fully registering in his mind what was happening. By the time the second shot was fired, Matt had thrown himself at Boomer, all 190 pounds of him slamming into her upper body, knocking her to the ground where he was soon assisted by another member of the CIC and a nearby Marine, who quickly secured the gun. Pandemonium ensued as Gaeta hit the alert, and personnel either screamed or were running about. He could hear Apollo screaming for someone to get a doctor, as he and Tigh rushed to the fallen commander's side. Tigh immediately applied pressure to the two gunshot wounds with his bare hands, while Lee, who was still manacled, could only cup his father's face and try to comfort him. Matt stared in disbelief down at Boomer who had a blank expression on her face, as if in a trance. He felt like he was in a nightmare.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37.

Matt's knee was placed firmly down on the back of Boomer's legs, immobilizing her as a Marine and another crewman held her arms fast. She was now starting to scream 'what happened?' The medics with their wheeled stretcher arrived yelling to clear a path. Captain Aaron Kelly arrived, the third highest ranking officer aboard _Galactica_, he was soon informed of the situation by tactical officer Gaeta, and was now acting executive officer. Tigh had ordered Boomer removed to the brig, and a group of Marines soon dragged her screaming out of the CIC. Lee Adama had tried to follow the medical team out of the CIC when Tigh ordered him removed to the brig as well. It was chaos.

"Colonel, could this be a prelude to a Cylon attack?" asked Kelly.

"How would they know where we were?" he shot back. Racetrack who had been standing to the side stunned stepped up and spoke.

"Valerii could have told them, sir. When we were aboard the Basestar, she left the Raptor for a few minutes and came back without her helmet. She might have told the Cylons everything, our position, defenses..." Kelly cut in, strongly advising Tigh to order the fleet to jump to emergency coordinates. Tigh was mulling it over when the Dradis sounded.

"Single contact! Cylon Basestar, bearing 487-carom-015." warned Gaeta. Matt turned and ran for the launch bay, if they were going to launch vipers to defend the fleet he was going to be the last one out of the tubes being so far away from the flight pods. His heart pounded as his head tried to sort through everything that just happened. He was just reaching the the bottom deck when the shipboard P.A. announced the fleet would be jumping to emergency coordinates. Fellow Spar Mark Sarnex met him at the catwalk of the launch bay.

"What's the plan, skipper?" asked Sarnex.

"How the frak should I know, the old man has been shot!"

"_What!"_ asked Sarnex incredulously. "What happened, who shot him, _why?_"

"Boomer! They're sayin she must be a Cylon agent. She put two 9mm rounds in his frakin chest, and now the toasters be showin up outta nowhere." replied Matt surveying the hanger beneath him. Okay, this is what we'll do, I want alert vipers in the air once we're on the other side o' the jump. Get on the line with Photon and the other squadron leaders, I want all their pilots in their cockpits." ordered the acting CAG.

**Combat Information Center**

"_They're gone sir." _reported Dualla softly. Tigh felt his entire world collapse, first his friend and commanding officer shot and hovering near death, now they just materialized out of the jump to find themselves all alone. The civilian fleet was not here, Dradis scans detected no Colonial transponders anywhere in the system. _"Mr. Gaeta, I want the fleet found, gods dammit!"_ yelled Tigh. His hands were still wet with blood, and his uniform was saturated with it. "Captain Kelly, you have the conn...I'm heading to my quarters to get changed."

"Captain Kelly, Hephaestus reports all pilots manning their vipers, and the alert vipers have been launched." said Dee.

"Alright Dee, they're gonna be calling in any second to report that the fleet is missing. I want the channels clear... inform them that we're aware of the situation, and they are to maintain an enhanced CAP around the ship until further notice." ordered Kelly, now the XO.

After changing into a new uniform, Colonel Tigh made his way to infirmary where Medic Layne Ishay was monitoring the commander's vital signs. She had explained the amount of damage found, and inquired how soon Doctor Cottle would be aboard to operate. Major Sherman Cottle had been aboard the _Rising Star_ when Adama had been shot, he had just been boarding his shuttle to return back to _Galactica_ when the order to jump came down. Now only the gods knew where he and the fleet were. He stared at the unresponsive body of William Adama, a nasal cannula provided 6 liters of oxygen to the unconscious patient, while a heart monitor beeped in the background.

"_...needs to get in there and stop the bleeding or we'll lose him." _Ishay was saying. Tigh snapped back to the present. "He doesn't have much time sir."

"You're gonna have to go in yourself." Tigh announced. Layne was obviously taken aback by the statement. She shook her head and replied quickly.

"_Me?_ I'm just a _medic!_"

"Today you're a doctor!" replied Tigh with finality, and then walked out of the room, destination the brig. Ishay was thunderstruck. Fellow medic Howard kim who had witnessed the entire discussion stepped up.

"_Was he drunk?" _Ishay wasn't sure if that was a serious question or not, but she didn't have time to be offended.

"Get me Cottle's green book on _Thoracic Surgery_, I'll need to brush up on a few things if we're going to undertake this."

"_We?" _replied Kim.

"Yes! I need you, so get over your fraking shock and move your ass to get that book." said Ishay sharply.

**Pilot's Ready Room – Port Flight Pod**

Colonel Tigh quickly entered the ready room with his Marine escort. Since the attempted assassination of the commander, a Marine escort accompanied Tigh and Kelly everywhere they went. His visit to the brig was an unsavory one, the Cylon prisoner, former raptor pilot Sharon Valerii, revealed little. His return to the CIC resulted in even a less palatable situation. Gaeta had found a way to possibly locate the missing fleet far quicker than previously reported. What was initially reported as taking a minimum of twelve hours in a Cylon occupied system to take new star fixes, could now be done in ten minutes. However, this could only be done by networking _Galactica's_ computers, something both Adama and Tigh vociferously opposed. Gaeta assured him the firewall he constructed could keep the Cylon virus at bay while they took the star fixes. Captain Kelly _did not_ share his optimism.

Matt Lensherr was standing at the status board, trying to plan a rotating combat air patrol for the current situation. "Captain, I don't have a lot of time to explain so I'm gonna try and make this short and sweet." began Tigh. "We lost the fleet!" Matt was speechless. We constantly update our emergency jump calculations, with new star fixes to compensate for inertial drift. And then we transmit them to the rest of the fleet. This time ours were updated, and theirs weren't. When the Cylons jumped on top of us, we had not transmitted the update to the fleet due to all the confusion with the old man being shot. They jumped to one location, we to another. The only way to find them is to go back to that sector and take an expedited reading of the stars, and then try to plot the correct jump to the fleet's possible location.

"I'm assuming we're going ta need ta hold off the Cylons while Gaeta takes the readings?" asked Matt.

"Correct. Look Hephaestus, the whole situation is fraked up, and I need every gods damned officer at the top of their game. I've decided that Apollo will be resuming the duties of the CAG effective immediately! This is no reflection on you," Tigh said reassuringly. "I need his _experience_ in this difficult time, _you_ will be his number two. Apollo will be on modified parole for the time being, when off duty, his ass will be back in the brig. I'm going to need you two at the top of your game. This is going to be a tough mission."

"You'll have me best, Colonel." said Matt. Tigh took his leave, and Matt let out a loud sigh of relief. He was shocked at getting tapped for acting CAG, there were other officers senior to him, but he was chosen by the old man himself. He felt relieved to have Apollo back in charge.

**Combat Information Center**

"We jump in, we hold off the Cylons, we crunch the numbers, and we jump out." announced Tigh. "That's it. Simple plan." he paused, "not so simple to do." he said almost to himself. Walking over to the tactical station he inquired on Gaeta's firewall to protect the computers against the Cylons.

"Best I can make it, sir. I wish Doctor Baltar was here." replied Gaeta going over the system one last time.

"To hell with that. I'll take your work over that shifty son of a bitch any day." growled Tigh. Dualla counted down the jump, inserting the FTL key, she jumped the ship back to their previous sector.

"Jump completed." announced Gaeta.

"_Report!"_ demanded Tigh. Gaeta checked the Dradis screen to find that it showed red contacts indicating enemy forces.

"Multiple Dradis contacts, Cylon Basestar, and multiple Cylon raiders...bearing 487-carom-221." Action stations sounded as the ship prepared to defend itself. Gaeata immediately started to run his computations as the raiders bore down on them. Large dorsal cannons opened fire, as point defense turrets sent up a wall of impenetrable flack. Vipers exploded from their launch tubes in two groups, Apollo leading the first, with Hephaestus leading the other. This would be a race against time. _Galactica's_ air wing was heavily outnumbered, and the Basestar was closing to missile range. A red warning light appeared on Gaeta's screen. A Cylon virus had been detected, the cyber attack had begun. "The Cylons are hacking our network! They're attempting to access our gateway."

This was exactly what Aaron Kelly feared, months earlier, the Cylons had completely overwhelmed the Colonial Fleet's defenses by accessing their networked computers through a backdoor program. Literally shutting down Battlestars and vipers, leaving them defenseless to attack. Now the race had begun. As brilliant as Lieutenant Felix Gaeta was, Kelly had no doubt that the Cylons would punch through his firewall quickly. Within 10 seconds the first of five firewalls were penetrated.

Matt was flying wingtip to wingtip with Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex, their Thraxon Kinetic Energy Weapons known as _KEWS_ lit up the skies, blasting whatever raiders were in their sights. The gods were surely with them during this battle, not one viper pilot had been lost yet. The raptors held back, closer to _Galactica_ in case any raiders broke through. They were the last line of defense, armed with their Spectra Six missiles.

"Apollo, Hephaestus...picking up an inbound _turkey, _they aren't returning fire, and a large contingent of raiders are running a blocking pattern for it...they may be planning to ram." warned Matt over the comline. The 'turkeys' were in fact a heavy raider, a Cylon dual purpose attack and transport spacecraft, nicknamed "Turkey" by the military. Six large cannons fired 30mm shells at a high rate of speed, and was also capable of firing missiles. Apollo and Lt. Louanne "Kat" Katraine break off to intercept, picking off the protective raiders whose sole objective appeared to be to absorb Colonial fire and allow the heavy raider to get through. The turkey, and two remaining raiders got them, and they followed in hot pursuit. Lee lined up his targeting computer on the closest raider, stitching the raider across the top. It spun off wildly only to be destroyed by a nearby viper. Kat took care of the other raider and now the two concentrated on the heavy raider which unexpectedly flipped end over end and fired a heavy barrage of 30mm rounds at them.

By this time, the third of five firewalls had been breached by the Cylon virus, the vipers did their best to keep the raiders from inflicting any significant fire on their battlestar, but they were too badly outnumbered, and spread far too thin.

"_Apollo, Kat...approaching Galactica's flack barrier. Cylon target within gun range." _Lee was bearing down on the heavy raider, the flack from the point defense turrets were getting brighter and closer.

"Winged it!" yelled Apollo, as his KEWS struck the port side of the heavy raider. Kat's frantic voice filled the comlines as Apollo's viper started to get buffeted by the nearby explosions of the defensive fire.

"_Apollo, we're straying into Galactica's engagement zone!"_

"I'm almost there. I'm almost there. I'm almost there..._come on!" _yelled Lee. As he tried in vain to reach the heavy raider. He could barely see anything anymore, a large piece of shrapnel slammed off his canopy. Kat bailed out of the zone just as Lee yanked back hard on the navi-hilt, slamming the thruster pedal into the firewall to escape before his fighter was destroyed by friendly fire. The heavy raider sustained numerous direct hits, spiraling out of control and crashing through the pressurized dome of the starboard flight pod. The decompression was violent and immediate felt all the way to the CIC. Lee banked hard and brought his viper under and around Galactica's aft section to inspect the damage. _"Galactica, Apollo... we have a decompression in the starboard flight pod. No explosion, no fire. Repeat no fire!"_

Matt had evaded the pinwheel attack a trio of raiders had set up for him, he wasn't so lucky when he collided with a passing raider that sheared off his dorsal stabilizer. Damage alarms sounded throughout the cockpit, and Matt switched off the audio function due to the distraction. "_Hephaestus, Hotdog...are you alright?"_

"Console is lit up like a frakin Colonial Day fireworks display," replied Matt. The viper was reacting far too sluggishly to the physical commands of the navi-hilt. "Avionics failing, and I'm getting a fire warning in my high engine...shutting it down."

"Hephaestus, Apollo...get back to _Galactica_ immediately!" ordered Lee. Matt wanted to stay in the fight, but knew his viper was falling apart quickly, the damage was severe, and he was controlling his course with maneuvering thrusters only at this point.

"Hephaestus receives..." acknowledged Matt. He keyedthe transmitter button once more. "_Galactica_, Hephaestus, I'm declaring an emergency, battle damage done shot away at me vertical stabilizer, and high engine, request emergency approach."

"Colonel... I have Hephaestus declaring an emergency with battle damage." advised Dualla. Tigh's eyes were glued to Gaeta's monitor that was displaying the progress of the Cylon virus on the makeshift firewalls to the mainframe.

"_Bring the gods-damned farmer in, Dee...I'm a little busy right now."_ barked Tigh.

"Only one left until they've accessed our mainframe." said Gaeta trying to control the anxiety building within him. Seconds more passed as a new dialogue box materialized on the monitor screen indicating FLEET POSITION PLOTTED. "We have a solution for the fleet's position!" announced Gaeta.

"Break the network!" commanded Tigh. Gaeta reached under the console and started yanking cables out of their ports violently.

"Network is broken! Computers restored to local control."

"Tell the vipers to get back aboard!" ordered Tigh. "We're getting awfully lucky today, prepare to jump!

The cavernous portal of the port flight pod loomed before him, Matt's viper was starting to vibrate apart, and system failures started to occur one after the other. It took all of his skill to get as far as he did, and now he was wishing _Galactica_ had its auto landing capabilities online to lock onto his damaged craft and bring it aboard. It was wishful thinking on his part, he knew full well that William Adama would _never_ allow his ship's computer to be networked, and the auto landing function of a Colonial Battlestar depended on a networked computer. He was coming in too fast, and the aft end of the Mk. VII viper started to swing about with the nose dropping. He knew this was going to be a bad landing, and he would never have survived punching out at this point. He easily cleared the massive opening, but the nose struck the deck first, crumpling it almost up to the base of the canopy when it flipped end over end. Sparks flew as the viper cartwheeled across the landing bay, coming to a sudden and violent stop against the interior lateral wall of the flight pod. If not for the safety harness, Matt would have been thrown against the control panel, possibly impaling himself on the navi-hilt. He felt a searing, white hot pain to his left shoulder which he would later learn was dislocated.

The remaining squadrons all made combat landings amidst a brutal onslaught by raiders and their Basestar alike. "Vipers aboard, sir." informed Dualla. The ship had been prepped for jump, and with a brief five second count-down, the _Galactica_ jumped to safety.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38.

Debris from the mangled wreckage of the starboard flight pod's pressure dome continued to break away, floating off into space. The Cylon heavy raider lay on the deck, a shattered mess. It had been mere minutes since the _Galactica_ arrived at the emergency jump coordinates that the civilian fleet had jumped to. Damage control teams had yet reached the former flight pod turned museum and would not witness the Cylon boarding party of centurions until too late. Colonel Tigh was checking in on Adama when the first power failure occurred. He immediately contacted the CIC for a sitrep.

"It's the virus, sir. I think it must have spawned copies of itself in some of the computer systems. It's knocked out main power and auxiliary units." reported Gaeta. Acting executive officer Captain Aaron Kelly was on the other line getting a report when his faced turned ashen.

"_Say again!"_ he ordered. He looked up at Gaeta. "Cylons reported in the starboard flight pod. "We've been boarded."

**Port Flight Pod**

Matt had to be cut out of his damaged viper by _Galactica's_ crash crew, he yelled out in pain as they pulled him out of the wreckage. A medic quickly evaluated his injuries, and diagnosed a dislocated shoulder. He refused the backboard and stretcher, he preferred to walk to infirmary to get treated. He and the medic ascended the decks, making their way to the sick bay when the shooting started.

"What the frak is that?" said Matt looking around. "Whose firing?" They started to quicken their pace when two Marines rounded the corner at a full run. Matt immediately recognized Lt. Terry Burrell. "Terry, what the frak-" The large marine officer cut him off.

"Get down, we've got Cylons on our asses, find fraking cover right now!" ordered the Marine. A Cylon centurion soon rounded the corner, firing the weapons built into their forearms. The two marines dove to the floor and rolled to each side of the hallway. Matt jumped back towards the bulkhead, slamming his injured shoulder against a vertical support strut. He felt like a white-hot poker had been driven into his shoulder, he was overcome by nausea as he dropped to the deck in agony. The medic was less fortunate, he had frozen at the sight of the metallic monstrosity and was struck by a barrage of rounds that turned his head into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp. Matt was spattered with blood and brain matter. The marine private let loose on full automatic, the rounds merely denting the centurion without slowing its advance. Another long burst struck the optical visor of the Cylon, shattering the telltale flashing red eye. The centurion staggered, as if trying to regain its balance. Lt. Burrell leaped up and brought his assault weapon to shoulder height, firing a short burst into the damaged visor. The Centurion's weapons retracted unexpectedly, and Burrell jumped onto the back of the Cylon, he disgarded his assault rifle and placed both of his large, powerful hands around the metallic head, and applied pressure the way he was instructed to do. A loud audible _snap _could be heard, and the Cylon dropped to the floor in a loud crash.

"Terry...what the frak be happenin here," asked Matt. "How did toasters get on the ship?"

"I'll explain on the run, Heph. We need to get the hell out of here." The two marines helped the injured viper pilot to his feet, stepping over the body of the dead medic they ran down the long hallway, and up two decks until reaching their destination.

"What the hell are we doin' at a small arms locker?" demanded Matt out of breath from the run.

"You see that clip of standard rounds my Marine pumped into that clanker? All it did was dent the armor, we need some explosive rounds to take these frakers down." replied Terry punching in the code to unlock the small arms locker. Once inside, they secured the hatch and the young Marine immediately located the locker containing the explosive rounds. "How many do you have, Corporal?" asked Burrell as he withdrew his walkie-talkie from a pocket on his combat vest.

"Got a dozen explosive rounds, lieutenant, and about six mags of armor piercing 5.7 x 28 's." replied the corporal dividing the ammunition between him and Burrell.

"How's the wing, Matt? Can you handle a weapon?"

"Lucky I'm right-handed, most I'll be able to handle is a sidearm." he replied motioning with his head to the service pistol on his hip.

"Corporal, take the Captain's sidearm and replace the standard rounds with the armor piercing ones, let's give the flyboy half a chance, eh?" said Burrell with a wink in Matt's direction. He turned the dial to the appropriate frequency and keyed the his lapel mike. "Hardcore to Almighty, over."

"_Almighty...go ahead." _Almighty wasthe unofficial callsign for the senior marine officer aboard_ Galactica, _Captain Dav Sharpe_._

"We've got clankers on multiple decks, unknown numbers. Be advised, standard rounds _ineffective_ against Centurion armor. I've got a wounded pilot and Corporal Whime with me at Small Arms locker Delta two one."

"_Alright Hardcore, try to hook up with the nearest fire team, and start coordinating search and destroy through CIC. Colonel Tigh seems to believe that the Cylons are heading for Secondary Damage Control and Auxiliary Fire Control, your job is to make sure they don't reach either one...good hunting, lieutenant."_

"Aye sir, Hardcore out."

"What's so frakin important about Secondary Damage Control? I can see the Aux Fire Control, but SDC?" asked Cpl. Oz Whime. Matt had to think about that for a moment, then he realized what the Cylons were after.

"Decompression safeties." said Matt matter-of-factly. "If they reach SDC they can override our safeties and vent us all out into space, game frakin over."

"Then let's move out, Matt I know you're wounded, but can you carry this?" Burrell handed Matt a very menacing looking rifle that he took from a wall rack.

"What's this?"

"_Thump Gun_, Lieutenant. A grenade launcher, from the distinctive noise made when firing." replied Whimes with a grin.

"_You plan to use this within the ship?" _asked Matt incredulously.

"One never knows, sir. Adapt, improvise, and overcome I always say."

"Ooh Rah!" replied Burrell opening up the hatch. Matt was seldom surprised by Colonial Marines, they marched to their own beat to be sure. He holstered his newly loaded sidearm, and slung the grenade launcher over his good shoulder. The three took off towards the aft section of the _Galactica_ to try and intercept the Cylon raiding party. It was not known how many Centurions were actually aboard, there was chaos with the sound of gunfire, human screams and the power failures. Many of _Galactica's_ crew had never encountered actual Cylon Centurions, only a handful in the entire fleet were old enough to have encountered them in the first Cylon war forty years earlier. Not one of the Marines, Lt. Burrell included, had encountered a Centurion, and the ones they knew looked nothing like the monstrosities they now faced. The Cylons had obviously upgraded their soldiers.

Stepping onto deck 12, the trio encountered two fleeing crewmen from engineering division, the first was covered with blood, and visibly close to a full panic. "_My gods, they're right behind us, do something!"_ pleaded the young specialist. Corporal Whime pushed the two behind a large storage container and dropped to his knee, lining up his weapon to drop the first centurion to round the corner. The first of two centurions appeared, Burrell and Whime let loose with their weapons. The armor piercing rounds stitched the Centurion up the middle, causing it to stagger back. A sickening whine, and crackle of burning circuitry could barely be heard over the echo of the gunfire. The Damaged Cylon raised both arms, firing it's built in weapons. The shotgroup was all over the place, they obviously damaged the targeting system. Burrell flipped a selector switch and a laser sight flashed on the damaged Cylon who slowly approached. He depressed the second trigger, launching a small explosive projectile that struck the Centurion center mass. The explosion was deafening, and metallic fragments sprayed in all directions. Whime cried out, a three inch fragment struck his upper thigh. Matt's eardrums felt like they had burst open, and he ran to the downed Corporal.

"You okay, mate?"

"Fine, sir. Just a frakin flesh wound." said Whime through gritted teeth. Matt and Terry helped him to his feet when the second centurion appeared. The Cylon had all three dead to rights and was prepared to fire when it was struck from behind. It spun around, only to get sprayed again with armor piercing rounds. The final blow came from an explosive round that took the Centurion's head clean off. Apollo had rounded the corner with two Marines, and a female pilot in tow.

"You guys okay?" asked Lee.

"Aye sir, we took two down so far, any idea how many we've got aboard?" replied Burrell.

"Not sure, the reports coming from CIC is fubar, could be close to a dozen." said Lee.

"We were heading for Secondary Damage Control when we came upon these clankers." said Matt.

"Okay, we're going to go loot the small arms locker on this deck for explosive rounds, we'll meet up with you guys later." said Lee. Both groups parted ways and Lee's group was soon at the small arms locker.

**Combat Information Center**

Tigh leaned over the plotting table that contained a schematic of _Galactica's_ interior. Gaeta was marking section with a red grease pencil as Captain Kelly looked on.

"Lt. Wallace reports his unit destroyed two Centurions at this junction." he circled one section of decking. "They've trapped a third in the ship's laundry. It can't walk but it's still shooting." reported Gaeta.

"At least we've contained the threat to Auxiliary Fire Control." added Kelly.

Tigh frowned and looked at both men directly. "Trust me, they're _still_ heading for aft damage control." A messenger ran up to Gaeta handing him a note. The news was not good.

"Sgt. Hadrian reports her unit had to halt their advance on Deck 10 at frame 69. Cylons cut through the hull ahead of her, and the compartments are open to space."

"Smart move. Keeps us from chasing them." said Kelly.

"There's nothing between those Centurions and the decompression safeties." said Tigh. The tension was palpable as Kelly and Gaeta looked stunned at each other. "If you know any prayers, now's the time."

The direct line to the plotting table sounded, Kelly picked up the receiver, relieved to hear the voice on the other end. "Colonel, it's Apollo! He's on deck 12, aft frame 86, between the Cylons and Aft Damage Control." Tigh took the receiver.

"Apollo, XO, sitrep."

"Five armed effectives. We haven't seen anything but bodies between here and the hanger deck." He paused for a moment, "strike my last...we met up with Burrell and Lensherr who reported they took out two centurions, we took out a two more. They're making their way to ADC as well."

"Any Marines with you?" inquired Tigh.

"Privates Collishaw and Twinam." replied Lee. Tigh looked over at Marine Captain Sharpe who was coordinating his fire teams from the CIC. He nodded to the XO indicating that they were two good marines.

"Take your men and proceed _without delay_ to Aft Damage Control." ordered Tigh.

"Aft Damage Control, RFN...On our way, Apollo out!"

Burrell, Lensherr and Whime had finally made it to the aft deck containing the Auxiliary Damage Control. They were on a causeway on the port side of the ship and had yet to encounter any more Centurions. At the end of the causeway was the hatch that would lead to another connecting causeway that would quickly cut across, leading them directly to the ADC. Burrell turned the circular hatch mechanism that would have unlocked the door, and pulled on the handle. Nothing.

"What's wrong?" asked Matt. Burrell pulled harder, with the same results. The atmospheric indicator to the left side of the door indicated a vacuum.

"Frak me, the causeway beyond this hatch has been depressurized, there's no way to open this door." said Burrell slamming his hand against the hatch. "We'll have to double back, and get in from the starboard side of causeway echo." replied the Marine lieutenant brushing past them in a hurry.

**Aft Damage Control**

Apollo's team made it to ADC without incident and quickly set up covering positions to fire from. This would be their _final protective line_ — the perimeter at which the enemy has begun to overrun friendly troops, signaling the commencement of final protective fire in desperate self-defense. The gunfire was becoming louder by the second. The Cylons were less than one hundred yards away. Apollo instructed everyone to get out of sight just in time. Two Centurions burst through the hatch and started towards the ADC when they were distracted by something outside of Apollo's field of view. The Centurions opened fire on their unseen targets, and Apollo took advantage of the distraction. _"Fire!" _yelled Lee jumping up from his position.

Multiple hits from explosive rounds took out the lead Centurion, the second quickly got to its feet and returned fire. Private Twinam was cut down by enemy fire, her body armor offering little protection from the Cylon projectiles. Collishaw stepped out from behind his cover to get a better shot only to be lethally struck down. The Centurion was now in a full run as Apollo scrambled to reload the last of the explosive rounds. The Cylon leaped high just as he squeezed the trigger. The explosive round struck the Cylon from less than a meter, sending a shockwave that threw Apollo backwards with extreme force. The top half of the destroyed Centurion sailed past him and skidded to a halt against the rear bulkhead. The threat was ended.

**Six hours later- _Galactica_ Infirmary**

Lee stood over the bed that his father lay unconscious upon. William Adama was on a mechanical ventilator, a device that mechanically assists or replaces spontaneous breathing. A large incision ran dead center down his sternum where medic Ishay performed emergency surgery. Laura Roslin, in the company of her marine guard stepped closer to Lee, her voice soft and reassuring. "He's gonna be alright, you know that." After a pause, Lee nodded and agreed. She turned towards Colonel Tigh, who stood cross armed with a scowl across his face. "Colonel, I assume there's a cell out there waiting for me?"

"That's right!" replied Tigh. Laura wasn't sure if she detected the slightest smile across the face of Saul Tigh. She was soon led back to the brig by Corporal Venner. He approached the bed, and looked up at Lee with a disgusted look on his face. "I can't believe you sided with that woman against the old man. I wouldn't do that if you put a gun to my head, and _you did!_" He made sure Lee was looking right at him when he spoke his next words. "As far as I'm concerned, you're not fit to wear a uniform."

Lee stared off into the room and nodded his agreement. "You're right about that part, I am not fit to wear the uniform...and maybe I never was. Then again, _neither were you_." shot back Lee caustically. The two locked eyes, and Tigh was seeing a different side of Lee Adama, a man he knew since the day he was born to Bill and Caroline Adama. "But this isn't my ship, and it sure as hell isn't yours. It's his!" said Lee motioning to his father lying before them. "And when he wakes up, he'll decide what to do with the both of us." Bending down, he kissed his father's forehead and left with his guard to return to his cell.

Major Sherman Cottle, _Galactica's_ ship's surgeon, finally arrived aboard ship and raced to the infirmary. He brushed aside the president's chief of staff who was attempting to speak with him. After being given a report on Adama's condition, he immediately prepped the commander for a second surgery.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39.

With Adama still in surgery, Tigh had entered the CIC, surprised to see Lee Adama at the tactical station with several other officers in deep discussion.

"What the hell's all this? Why aren't you in the brig?" demanded Tigh loudly. Lee looked up from the table and exchanged glances with Racetrack, and two other officers.

"I'm on duty, sir. Planning the search and rescue mission." replied Lee calmly.

"Search and Rescue? _For who?" _His face turned red and he looked around the CIC accusingly. "We lose a plane and nobody tells me?" yells Tigh.

"For the _Raptor crew_ down on the surface of _Kobol_, sir." replies Lee, trying to contain his surprise. He had known Saul Tigh long enough to know that he had been drinking, but the strain of current events were starting to take their toll on the normally irritable executive officer.

"Hephaestus is senior pilot now, he can plan the SAR."

"Ughh sir... Captain Lensherr is off flight status due to a dislocated shoulder he suffered in battle." informed Lee. Tigh's face reddened, he knew the entire CIC was looking at him now. "Also, you asked me to command the air group while I'm on duty, and I'm _on_ duty...so am I in command or not?" challenged Lee. Tigh relented and walked over to the tactical station.

"What's the status of the SAR, Captain?" Lee had provided all of the details at his disposal, and indicated what he had planned to do. Tigh had nothing else to add and he turned, almost running straight into Gaeta. "Lieutenant Gaeta, why are you hovering about?" asked Tigh annoyed.

"It's the press, sir. They're demanding to know how much longer we plan on holding them, and when they can contact their home ships?" informed Gaeta.

"They _demand?" _repeated Tigh. "They're in no position to demand anything! You tell them to shut their yaps and we'll get to them in due time." roared Tigh. Petty Officer Dualla cleared her voice, breaking the uncomfortable silence following Tigh's outburst.

"Excuse me, Colonel? Shuttle from the _Zephyr _has just requested permission to enter the landing pattern." informed Dualla.

"The Zephyr?"

"Yes sir. Evidently the Quorum of Twelve is aboard. They're demanding to see you."

"_They demand?"_ repeated Tigh, now clearly angered to hear demands of him for the second time in as many minutes.

"Demanding job, commanding a Battlestar." quipped Lee from the background, eliciting snickers from personnel close by. Tigh turned to face Lee, shooting him a look that could kill. He ignored the crack and ordered them to land. He instructed Dee to have them all placed in the ward room until he was ready for them, and then stormed out of the CIC.

**Six hours later – Materializing high above _Kobol_**

Captain Lee Adama was leading two SAR Raptors to _Kobol, _Lt. Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson piloted his Raptor while Lieutenant Nina "Betty" Nintius piloted Raptor 4. The fifty ton craft had departed orbit and started their descent to the surface. The ECO had pinpointed the downed Raptor and provided the coordinates to Racetrack and Betty. Betty had glanced into the cabin behind her were medics were preparing their equipment, there was no doubt in her mind that if there were any survivors from the crash, they would be in need of medical care immediately upon arrival. With the Basestar destroyed, they weren't expecting to run into any Cylon resistance, but she was keeping her eyes peeled just the same.

"ETA?" asked Lee as the ship was buffeted by the violent entry into the planet's atmosphere.

"Five minutes." replied Racetrack. Lee couldn't help but notice how beautiful _Kobol_ looked from this height. Verdant forests, mountain ranges, large bodies of water and of course the ruins of a civilization long deserted. He wondered what his father would decide if he was still conscious, stay here and recolonize, or continue on to _Earth_. They were now a few hundred feet over the surface and almost on top of the downed Raptor's location.

"Captain, I'm picking up a signal." announced the ECO. "A strong signal emanating from that forest at eleven o'clock, and dead-ending on that mountain range, one and a half klicks, at roughly four o'clock position." Lee felt uneasy, something was amiss.

"Keep sharp people." snapped Lee. An audible alarm sounded, they were being tracked by dradis. A sighting of contrails ascending from the treetop canopy indicated an attack.

"Missiles!" shouted Racetrack. "There's a battery down there!"

"_Evasive! Break! Break! Break!"_ ordered Lee. Racetrack was well ahead of him and banked the Raptor hard to the port side. The missiles split up in three different directions, striking neither Raptor, nor trailing them as a surface to air missile normally would.

"No lock! No Lock! They're not locking onto us." said Racetrack.

"_There!" _yelled one of the Marines pointing out of the canopy. "Did you see it? The sun reflecting off something metallic right down there." Racetrack swung around, the canopy was not as dense in this location. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on a large burning tree, and what looked like burning metal at the base. There was something else, movement. Three people huddled around the base of a large tree, the ground seemed to be ripping up all around them. They were under fire.

"_Cylons!_" shouted Lee. "I'm making four...no strike that...five Centurions advancing on our people. Let's give em a hand lieutenant!"

"Aye, aye, sir." replied Racetrack bringing the Raptor low in a hovering position. She switched on her targeting computer and immediately picked up the Centurions. "Going weapons free..._firing!_" Thirty millimeter rounds spat out from the bottom of the Raptor, unleashing controlled devastation to the Cylons advancing on the survivors. When it was all over, a very surprised, and relieved Chief Tyrol looked up to their saviors, a smile forming at his lips. The cavalry had finally arrived.

**Pilot's living quarters – Port Flight Pod**

"Are ye frakin kiddin me, Tigh threw the chief in the brig?" asked Lensherr. Mark Sarnex sat across the small metal table in the center of the four man stateroom that was called home by two squadron leaders and two ASL's. A large steaming mug of coffee sat on the dented tabletop as Sarnex unwrapped an algae-based protein bar from its wrapper.

"Yup, once Boomer shot the old man, anyone connected with her fell under Tigh's scrutiny. Tyrol was fraking her brains out in the tool shed for gods only know how long before the old man got wind of it, and sent Tight down to put an end to it. Once the SAR team returned from _Kobol, _Tigh had a marine detail waiting for him in the hanger bay and placed him in custody the moment he stepped off the raptor.

"This is insane, Galen Tyrol is probably one of the most straight-forward, and patriotic men I know. No way he's a skinjob." replied Matt.

"Most people probably thought the same about Boomer, Matt. Look how _that_ turned out." said Sarnex between bites.

"How the frak can ye be eatin that felgercarb?" said Matt trying to change the subject.

"You have a secret supply of real protein bars somewhere? Seriously though, these algae-based bars aren't too bad once you get used to them."

"Oh frak off already! I be doubtin there's na anything you'd eat." laughed Matt.

"What do you think about what happened on the _Gideon?_ Tigh isn't scoring many gold stars as acting C.O. Eh?"

"Martial Law, the Gideon Massacre... if the old man ever wakes, he's gonna have a frakking field day trying to sort the mess made by the cranky frakker, eh? Hear he's been knockin back the whiskey more en usual. The old sod be pissin off just about everybody, thats all we need is for the Cylons to pop up with him in the bag."

"Funny thing about Tigh, he's one of the most highly 'functioning alcoholics' I've ever come across, if it wasn't for the mean streak that gets exacerbated by the booze, you could almost deal with him. What worries me is the deal with the President. Tigh really has it in for her."

"I know, between you and me... I think Adama was wrong to arrest her. She _is_ the legal President, and like it or no, the military answers to the civilian government. If Adama had issues with her actions, he should have called for an immediate quorum session. The fleet be a tinderbox right now, emotions high, nerves raw, and the lawful President cooling her heels in _Galactica's_ brig ain't goin over too well."

"Matt, she suborned mutiny on the old man's ship, what the frak did you think he'd do?" asked Sarnex. "While I agree with you that the military should have civilian oversight, we're on the run for our frakking lives, and Adama and this warship is the only thing protecting the survivors of humanity. It was a tough decision, I'm sure."

"I canna believe Starbuck bolted with the Raider. Always knew she was hotheaded, but never thought she'd cross the old man. Lee said she went back to _Caprica_ to retrieve some ancient artifact...arrow of Apollo or some such nonsense. Believes it'll show us the way to _Earth_."

"Yeah, I heard the same. She's crazy, the chances of her finding the proper coordinates back to _Caprica_, much less making it there is astronomically against her."

"Canna say I'd bet against the lass, if anyone can do it... Kara Thrace can do it. The problem is what if she makes it there? There's bound to be toasters still on the planet, not to mention the radiation from the nukes, and her return home is another tangled mess of luck altogether. Not a religious man as ye know, but I find meself sayin a prayer she makes it back to us in one piece." Lt. Margaret Edmondson walked past the opened door, and Matt called out to her. "Racetrack... where ye headin in such a hurry, lass?"

Racetrack doubled back and poked her head through the hatch. "Sorry Heph, no time to chat. Got to go find Apollo, having trouble with my Raptor's ordinance tracking system." replied Racetrack. She seemed nervous, almost jittery.

"Better hurry lass, he's almost off duty, and on his way back to the brig." said Matt. She mumbled a thankful response and ran off. Sarnex's eyebrow shot up.

"Your former frak buddy seemed a little nervous, don't ya think?" Matt rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, ever the frakin intelligence officer, eh? She activate your mental dradis, did she? What you need is to get yourself into her good graces, maybe she'll invite you to the storage locker." laughed Matt.

"Very gracious of you, Matt. D'Anna finally emerges and you decide to hand off your little Raptor pilot to your best buddy as some sort of birthday gift? Never been much for sloppy seconds." replied Sarnex downing the remainder of his coffee. Matt removed his arm from the sling and slowly stretched his arm. Doc Cottle had popped his shoulder back in place, and gave him some pain meds. He'd be off flight status for a few days, and was looking forward to the downtime. He was hoping he'd be able to get permission to go see D'Anna, but doubted Tigh would approve it at this juncture. Too many things were happening, and he could feel the dark clouds of trouble forming on the horizon. The fleet was not taking the news of President Roslin's arrest very well, ships were refusing to resupply _Galactica_, and that led to Colonel Tigh sending Marines to the _Gideon_. The mission to restore order ended up in chaos and civilian deaths that many were calling unprovoked, even murder.

"I'll tell you this, my young Aerilonian dairy farmer... there's a storm coming. You don't have to be a graduate of intelligence school to see the signs, the fleet is splintering...taking sides, and that will not be good in the short or long term." warned Sarnex.

"The old man better pull through, he's the only one I can see fixin the situation. Tigh is a frakkin loose cannon at this point, he's only gonna make things worse as more of the ship captains start to cross him."

"The _Gideon_ was a torch thrown on a load of Solium," said Matt, "it hasn't been addressed, and Tigh sure as hell isn't gonna explain himself to the Quorum of Twelve. The Roslin issue is gonna split wide open on that bald head of his, and I canna say with any assurance that he won't respond wit a heavy hand." The two men continued with their discussion for another hour when they were interrupted by the klaxon.

"_Attention. Set Condition two throughout the ship. Repeat... set Condition Two throughout the ship." _Condition Two was one of the three states of readiness for a Colonial warship called to Action Stations.It indicates that a threat is probable, but not present. Crew readiness is somewhat more relaxed than full readiness. This is usually ordered directly after the end of a Condition One alert. Mark bolted off his seat and started for the hatch.

"I'm heading for the hanger, try not to injure yourself cooling your heels, Hephaestus." joked Sarnex referring to Matt's injured status. Matt wondered what could be happening. He was no longer the acting CAG, he wasn't even on flight status due to his shoulder injury. He buttoned up his tunic and started for the hanger bay, maybe the Shooter would know what's happening. The Shooter was the nickname for the Landing Signal Officer or LSO, the officer who is responsible for all flight operations on the flight pods of Colonial battlestars and other military vessels. Matt was passed by viper pilots quick-timing to their fighters, in anticipation of the ship going to Condition One. As he entered the hanger bay he looked about for Apollo. Strange, he saw Apollo's Mk. VII viper in its berth, but Lee Adama was nowhere to be seen. The CAG should have been here by now. He entered a restricted hatch into the launch control room where the Shooter was preparing to launch fighters upon orders to launch. With Captain Aaron Kelly acting as the executive officer, Lieutenant Ron Blecker was bumped up to lead LSO.

"Hephaestus, what brings you here?"

"Nosin around, lieutenant. Ya know what's goin on with the ship bein at Condition Two?" asked Matt.

"You haven't heard? Apollo busted the former president out of the brig, stole a raptor and is on the run. I've been monitoring the channels, Tigh just ordered the CAP to fire across their bow." informed Blecker.

"Are ye fraking kiddin me? Apollo rigged a jail break?" asked Matt thunderstruck. "Oh man, the felgercarb has hit the ventilator. Did the CAP deter them?"

"Negative..." he cocked his head slightly, listening to his headset. "They're on final approach to _Cloud Nine."_

"They get aboard _Cloud Nine_ say goodbye, Tigh won't be able to track them if they switch to another ship, which Apollo definitely will do if he's smart." Matt said goodbye and walked out of the hanger bay, wondering what the hell was going on.

**One Week Later**

Against Doc Cottle's advice, Commander William Adama returned to duty to pick up the pieces of his command. Saul Tigh was his oldest friend, and Adama trusted him with his life. He had complete confidence in his executive officer's ability to command, but an array of circumstances fought Tigh at every turn, and in the end martial law was enacted, the president escaped with the aid of his son, the Cylon agent he had known as Boomer had been killed while in custody during transfer by Specialist Callandra Henderson, and worse...Tigh resumed his drinking which didn't help anyone. He had no idea how much worse it could get at this point.

"Dualla, what is Captain Lensherr's status?" asked Adama.

"Raptor 4 is on final approach to the _Prometheus." _replied the communications officer.

Adama turned to Tigh and nodded. The search for the fugitive ex-president and his son was narrowing, only two ships were left to search, all the others were searched under the quarantine procedures. Raptor 4, piloted by Lt. Nina Nintius contained a Marine boarding party which Adama placed under the command of Lensherr. The last Marine boarding party under the command of a viper pilot ended up with disastrous results, but Adama had full faith in Matthew Lensherr, and there were too few commissioned and non-commissioned Marine officers to appoint to every search team. There were too few Colonial Marines in the ranks, something he was going to have to address sooner rather than later.

"Only two ships left, _Prometheus_ and _Astral Queen. _Filled with the scum of the Colonies." groused Tigh. The Astral Queen was formerly a prison barge, and the Prometheus was a known haven of the fleet's black market. "The noose is tightening." Adama studied his executive officer closely. Tigh never liked Laura Roslin from the first day he met her, and prior to be shot by Boomer, Tigh led a boarding party on Colonial One intending to arrest the president when Lee placed his service pistol to Tigh's head and sided with the president. Something he doubted Saul would ever forget.

**Landing Bay – Freighter Prometheus**

Once the bay was pressurized, the Raptor's hatch opened and eight Colonial Marines followed by Matthew Lensherr clad in black utilities and body armor exited. The commanding officer of the _Prometheus, _Captain Doyle Franksand her own security detail arrived to meet Lensherr, she did not look happy.

"Captain, I've just been informed of your arrival five minutes ago. Is there any particular reason why I was kept in the dark about this?" demanded the middle aged woman, an attractive blond with a barely noticeable scar on the side of her cheek.

"My apologies, Captain. No slight towards you intended, but Commander Adama's orders were to give only five minutes advanced notice on approach. I'm sure yuir aware of quarantine procedures durin a ship search, and _Prometheus_ is next to be searched for the missing former president." explained Lensherr.

"I can assure you, young captain, that if Laura Roslin was aboard my ship, my intelligence division would know about it. Bad enough that Commander Adama treats this ship like some sort of pariah, now I have to put up with the insult of foreign troops aboard my ship doing a job my own security forces could handle?" Matt was well aware of who Captain Franks was, and what her reputation was. She had an impeccable record for honesty, which was ironic seeing as how she was the captain of the most lawless ship in the fleet. He had no doubts about her honesty and integrity, but like Commander Adama...Matthew Lensherr didn't trust Prometheus security any farther than he could throw the lot of them. Adama would not risk giving the security forces advanced warning of the boarding party, and was willing to risk ruffling Frank's feathers.

"I have no doubts bout that, Captain. However, you understand I have a job to do here." replied Matt.

"I do. Carry on, and please inform Commander Adama that I will be seeking an audience with him over this matter." said Franks turning on her heel. Matt let out a long sigh and turned to the Marines flanking him.

"Alright Marines, lets get on with this. Four teams of two, radio check-ins every 30 minutes, and remember...don't travel anywhere on this rattrap alone." Each marine towered over Matt by at least six inches, each man was well trained in hand to hand combat and superb marksmen, yet every one of them knew not to take Lensherr's words of caution as an insult. The Prometheus was a very dangerous ship, and even a well trained Colonial Marine could have their throat slit if they dropped their guard.

"Looks like it's you and me, handsome." purred Nintius who had now donned a black bullet-proof vest over her flight leathers. Nina's hair was tied tight in a pony tail, and she pulled her service weapon from its holster and checked the clip.

"I am _not_ looking forward to this." complained Lensherr.

"Oh stop your bitching, Heph... the old man obviously has a lot of faith in you. Maybe if this mission is a success he'll transfer you to the gorilla squad." said Nina with a devious wink.

"Wonderful." replied Matt tersely.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40.

The search for former President Roslin and Lee Adama continued without success. They had always been one step ahead of their pursuers jumping from one ship to the other, but like Tigh said earlier, the noose was tightening. They had just barely escaped lieutenant Terry Burrell's Marine boarding party on the _Kimba Huta_ after releasing a taped address over the wireless, exhorting the fleet to follow her back to _Kobol_. Laura Roslin had played the 'religious card' in order to galvanize as many members of the fleet to her cause that she could, in order to enough to fulfill a prophesy she came to believe in. A prophesy that led her to believe that she was chosen by the Gods to lead the people to their new home, to _Earth_, home of the lost thirteenth tribe.

Matt and Nina searched deck six which contained roughly thirty state rooms and storage areas for the crew of the freighter. The rest of the boarding party searched the large storage hangers, engineering section, mess hall, bridge and various other sections of the freighter. The lower sections would be saved for last, when the entire boarding party could go together in safety. The _Prometheus_ was a notorious black market haven under the watchful eye of a man named Phelan, an ex-mercenary who for all accounts was the true master of _Prometheus_. Anything could be found aboard the notorious freighter, anything for a price. Matt's radio sounded as each team checked in at the scheduled time. The two continues their search, ending up at the end of a putrid, urine-scented dark hallway.

"This is an absolute dismal ship, we'd probably be doing these poor frakers a favor if we blew it, and the whole black market out of stars." observed Nintius contemptuously.

"_Not everyone can be livin the high life aboard a Colonial Battlestar, girlie!"_ came a voice from a darkened hatchway. A brief flash lit up the darkened space to reveal a large man with a face full of tattoos and a thin fumarello hanging off his lip. The man was obviously a Tauron.

"Don't you know it's impolite to listen in on other people's conversations, ugly?" retorted Nina turning her side to the man, preparing for action if need be.

"Ugly, eh? You military wimps got loads of balls comin aboard this ship, don't ya know we off the grid. Adama's suck boys don't mean felgercarb here aboard _Prometheus_. Phelan's word is law here, not Adama's." The man moved out of the shadow with a speed that defied his size, getting to within a meter from the two pilots. Matt quickly reached for his sidearm, but Nina waved him off.

"No need for that Heph, this fraker isn't worth the effort, besides... he's leaving right now." said Nina with a smile.

"Izzat so, girlie?" And who's gonna make me leave, you two?" laughed the Tauron in a menacing tone.

"Yuir interfering in military business, my friend... _move along!_" challenged Matt.

"I'd recognize the sound of an Aerilonian daggit fraker, anywhere. Who are you to be givin orders on this ship, boy? I suggest you two go back where you came from, and take your jack-booted gorillas with you before they get hurt." This time there was no smile on the Tauron's face as he advanced closer to Matt with an outstretched arm. He grabbed the nylon strap of the combat vest and pulled Matt forward off balance. With lightning speed, Matt jammed his thumb and first two fingers into the nerve cluster at the base of the Tauron's neck, causing him to wince in pain. He was only momentarily distracted by the pain, and soon connected to Matt's jaw with a strong left hook. Matt was sent flying back against a bulkhead.

"_Mother fraker_..." yelled Nina, as she closed the distance between the two, her right leg arcing high to deliver a round house kick to the attacker's head. Once again, the larger man's speed surprised her when he caught her leg in mid kick, keeping it pinned to his side. He smiled, and pulled her off balance, making her hop on her left foot to stay upright.

"Ugly I may be, girlie, but it's gonna take a lot more than two colonial officers to bring me down." he laughed. "Maybe I should make you dance for me, eh?" Nina Nintius normally spent hours a day working out in _Galactica's_ gym in order to keep herself in top shape, when she wasn't pumping iron, she was honing her martial arts skills with the likes of Kara Thrace, Terry Burrell, or Dav Sharpe. The long hours finally paid off, her legs were like coiled steel, and she quickly leaped off her remaining leg and administered a round house kick to a very surprised Tauron. Her boot struck hard to the jaw which produced an audible crack. The two dropped to the deck, and Nina rolled with the fall, bringing herself upright to attack. The attacker was on all fours and spit out a was of blood. A large tooth bounced on the metallic deck. The threat he mouthed was clearly inaudible through his broken jaw as he started to get to his feet. Nina barely heard the metallic snap of Lensherr's spring-loaded tactical baton. The 21 inch black chrome steel tube was brought down hard, targeting the nerves running through the major muscles of his leg. The Tauron screamed out in pain and fell back to the deck.

"Not a good idea, mate. I suggest stayin down, or the next one be splitting that thick skull o' yuirs wide open." warned Matt. Nina took out a pair of flexi cuffs and bound the attackers hands and feet tightly.

"You just sit there nice and quiet ugly, and we'll get back to you." chided Nina. She turned back quickly and kneeled down close to the man's ear. "Oh, and for your information... _Doyle Franks is in charge of Prometheus, and she answers to Adama_. Phelan's days are numbered, believe me. The two continued on their way and Nina gestured towards the retracted baton now back in its holster on Matt's tactical vest. "So, since when is that standard issue for a viper jock?"

"Terry lent it to me, I've had the opportunity to get some decent training wit it recently. Pays to be in good graces wit the marines, wouldn't ya say lass?"

"I think you were too kind, if it was me I would have shoved it up his ass. Fraking black market scumbags... got no use for em." groused Nina. "Far as I'm concerned, the old man oughta airlock every one them!"

"That wouldn't help preserve the human race, lass. Even scum like his lot deserves to live, we start pickin and choosin who lives and dies, we become no better than the frakin toasters." Nina looked at him and chuckled, shaking her head.

"You're a funny man, Heph."

**Lower Catacombs – Freighter **_**Prometheus**_

Apollo glanced nervously through the open hatch of the storage locker. The room they inhabited was five meters wide by seven meters in length. Elosha and the president sat on mid-sized crates eating steamed noodles provided by friends of their plight.

"We can't stay here any longer," began Apollo. "The boarding party is getting closer and our time has just about run out. Madam President, we need to leave _now!_"

"Does Mr. Zarek have our transportation to the _Astral Queen_ secured?" asked Laura.

"I have no doubt he'll come through for us." said Lee bitterly. "The man hates my father more than he hates _you_, I'm sure he has some other interest besides getting you to _Kobol_ close to the vest."

"Of that I have no doubt, but he's the only game in town."

In Omega section of the lower deck of the _Prometheus_ was the huge expanse of the black market. Numerous tables, chests, display cases and in some cases human models, showcased forbidden or extremely rare items sold to the highest bidder. Armed civilian guards were discreetly positioned along catwalks that provided perfect observation points to deal with any unforeseen problems. No doubt there were undercover guards mingling in the crowd to ensure order. Matt and Nina stood outside the main entryway, getting a layout of dangerous environment before them.

"Well, this is it... the last deck." observed Nina.

"She's here, I canna explain it, but something tells me the president is here." replied Matt.

"_Former_ president, Heph." shot back Nina. "And our CAG turned fugitive." Her last sentence hung in the air uncomfortably. Both pilots liked and respected Lee Adama, yet couldn't fully understand what was motivating him to ally himself with someone who actively sought to suborn mutiny on the _Galactica_. "We waiting for the gorilla's?"

Matt turned towards her to reply. "Yes, we have a better chance safety-wise if we go in with superior numbers. Captain Sharpe loaned me eight o' his biggest marines, so we wait for them to arrive. Captain Doyle's security forces are manning all the entry points to the upper decks which we've already searched and cleared."

"You trust them?"

"I get the feelin that Doyle got her panties in a twist over this business. I'm willing to bet she's gonna play this one straight, hoping to catch Roslin herself just to stick it in Adama's eye." said Matt. He keyed up his lapel microphone and spoke. "Team one staging aft entrance of Omega deck, over." The remaining teams all checked in, and then entered the market place from two locations, weapons slung low, and non-threatening. The sight of Colonial Marines in the market place created an almost palpable atmosphere of anxiety. The black market guards, mostly former mercenaries kept a close eye on the ten armed trespassers from _Galactica_.

Matt slowly made his way around a large table that contained various personal hygiene products for men and women, all in their original packaging. Items so scarce, that they commanded a high price. A tube of toothpaste was more valuable than any rare gem, or piece of jewelry to a person who've lost everything. Matt was immediately caught off guard by the parting of the crowds, and sudden silence.

"If your search has concluded Captain, perhaps I can interest you in stick of deodorant?" The deep voice belonged to a tall, bald, black man in a very expensive suit. He had two very dangerous-looking well-armed bodyguards flanking him.

"And who might you be?" asked Matt, and what makes ya think I be searchin for someone or somethin?" The tall man chuckled.

"Captain, you may call me _Phelan_, and very little happens aboard _Prometheus_ without my knowledge... or permission." he replied.

"I think the ship's captain might disagree with you there, sport." said Nina. Matt shot her a look that clearly meant stand down. Phelan glanced at Nina in the same way an adult might disapprovingly gaze upon a petulant child.

"Captain, I detest disharmony in my business. I find it easier to allow a small boarding party in my market, than an entire strike force of Colonial Marines upsetting my clientele, or shining too bright a light on _Prometheus_. The less Adama knows about life on this ship the better. Finish your search, and depart..._immediately_." With that he disappeared back into the crowd. The search continued for another hour, and then it happened. There, at the end of the dimly lit causeway was Lee Adama.

"_Apollo!"_ Nina was twenty yards behind Matt when she heard him call out. She could see Matt, but not their fugitive CAG. She started running towards the opening of the causeway trying to catch up with him. The causeway was roughly thirty yards, and Matt could see Lee motioning someone out of view to move along quickly. He also noticed a large figure step out of the shadows and bring a forearm up head level, it caught Matt who was at a full run just beneath his chin. Matt hit the floor hard. At least three more men stepped from the shadows.

"_Heph!_" yelled Nina. She drew her sidearm and quickly closed the gap. She was bringing her gun up when a blur moved to her right, she felt her legs go out from underneath her after a sharp impact. She fell flat on her face, and the gun slid across the deck. She looked up and saw the man they had handcuffed earlier on deck six standing above her.

"Remember me, girlie? Time to finish that dance of ours." growled the Tauron. He brought his boot down hard onto Nina's shoulder, forcing her to hit the deck again chin first. Matt was still on the ground trying to catch his breath, he had the presence of mind to hit the orange button on the top of his two way radio, tripping the emergency distress alert. He thumbed his lapel mic and said "_Omega aft"_ in a very hoarse voice. One of the attackers ripped the radio from Matt's hand by the lapel mic cord and smashed it against the bulkhead.

Lee Adama witnessed Matthew Lensherr getting taken down by a large attacker, seconds later he saw what looked like Lt. Nina Nintius rush to his aid only to get dropped herself. There were five attackers against two of his pilots, he couldn't leave them. Looking back towards Laura, he saw Tom Zarek helping her through another hatch that would lead to a causeway up to the shuttle craft waiting in the hanger.

The Tauron looked to the man who took down Nina and spoke loudly, "the security shutter..._now!_" He quickly ran a few feet to a control panel and hit a large red button that dropped a mesh steel security shutter from the ceiling to the floor, just before the Marines who were responding to the emergency distress alert arrived with automatic rifles drawn. The Tauron limped over towards Matt who was still flat on his back. "Fraking leg is still killin me, flyboy!" He reached down and grabbed the collapsible baton from the holster on Matt's pistol belt. He snapped the baton open to its full length and hovered over Matt. "Let's see if I can split _your_ skull open wit this!"

"_I don't think so!_" came a voice from behind. The Tauron spun around in time to see Apollo charging towards him full force. Lee slammed full speed into the attacker with his shoulder, and heard ribs snap. The Tauron screamed out in pain and dropped the baton which Lee quickly scooped up. He swung hard, catching the nearest attacker across the bridge of the nose, dropping the man to his knees. Nina was able to get to all fours and grabbed hold of her attacker's leg that was rushing to come to his boss' aid. With little effort he pulled himself free and spun around, driving his heel into her sternum. Lee dodged a spear finger attack by another attacker, and kneed the man in the groin, followed up by a strike to the back of the skull with the baton. Now it was two against one.

"You smell like Colonial Fleet, boy!" The thinner man said to Apollo. "You don't come aboard Phalen's ship looking for trouble." The heavier of the two remaining attackers lunged forward, and Lee pivoted to allow the man's momentum to carry him past while sweeping the man's leg out from underneath. The thinner man was able to get a choke hold applied, which Lee countered with an elbow strike to the solar plexus, and then flipped the attacker over his shoulder. A well placed strike with the baton rendered the attacker unconscious. The last attacker unsteadily got to his feet, and Lee quickly broke his knee with a well-placed side thrusting kick. The fight was over and Lee ran for the hatch to join Roslin, Elosha and Zarek.

"_Stop..._" came a hoarse voice from behind. Lee spun around to see Matt on his feet pointing his sidearm at him. Nina was just getting to her feet as the Marines started battering through the security shutter. "Sorry sir, I have...ta take ya in." Lee smiled. He liked Matthew Lensherr very much, and knew he was only doing his job.

"Sorry Hephaestus, you're a good man, but I have no intention of returning to _Galactica's_ brig, please tell Colonel Tigh I said to go frak himself." He slowly turned his back and took off for the hanger bay. Matt stood there, letting him go. The Marines finally broke their way into the causeway, and took up defensive positions. Nina was soon at his side.

"Heph?" she whispered quietly. "What happened to Apollo?"

"He must have gotten away during the fight." Matt responded flatly, and not the least bit convincingly. Nina just stared at him for a moment.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Let's get the hell out of here before we have to fight to get off this deck. Back to the Raptor." ordered Lensherr.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41.

**Landing Bay – _Astral Queen_**

Tom Zarek peered out the porthole of the shuttle and smiled. Standing at the far corner was his security chief; a dangerous individual named Meier. The hatch opened and Zarek and his guests disembarked.

"Welcome back, Tom." the man said while eyeballing Lee and Roslin. "I see we're having guests for dinner."

"Well, we'll hold off on the feast for now." said Zarek with a smile. "We need to get up to the command center and make this happen. Is the FTL ready to be spooled up? Once we spool up, _Galactica_ will immediately know where these two are, so once we commit, that's it...we're jumping." he said motioning to Lee and Roslin.

"We're ready." replied Meier. In minutes, they were all within the command center for the ship, Zarek hovered over the crewman who was uploading the message that would soon be transmitted to the fleet. Lee looked on nervously, the last time he was aboard the _Astral Queen _he came to recruit prisoners for a critical work detail and ended up in the middle of a prison break where he and his team were immediately taken hostage. The experience was not a pleasant one. The crewman completed his task and looked up at Zarek.

"We're ready." announced Zarek.

"Send the signal and jump." said Laura. The crewman typed in the command, and a message buoy was launched from the dorsal side of the ship into the heart of the fleet. The message was immediately transmitted to every ship in the fleet.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"_Astral Queen_ has jumped away." reported Gaeta from his station. Adama and Tigh were down by the plotting table.

"Now we'll see how many follow." said Adama.

""To sit around and wait for Starbuck to show up with that stupid arrow?" groused Tigh. "Two, three at the most." The seconds turned into minutes as the dradis screen remained the same. Tigh smirked as it appeared that no one would follow the former president on her suicide run to _Kobol_. Then the first ship disappeared, then another, and in the end a total of twenty four ships jumped away, a total of 18,000 people. Out of the 24 ships that were lost to Roslin's rebellion, the three construction platforms and the mining ship _Monarch_ was a serious, almost catastrophic loss.

**Mess Hall – _Galactica_**

Nina Nintius looked down at her tray and frowned. Steak and vegetables... _again. _Sadly the steak was not truly beef, and the vegetables weren't entirely that either. It was processed algae cut in the shape of a small steak, and dyed a medium rare color. The vegetables were the same type of processed algae made to resemble spinach. She made her way over to Matt Lensherr's table where he was eating with Mark Sarnex. She dropped her tray onto the table and took a seat.

"Mind if I join you boys?" asked Nina.

"Not at all lass, park yuirself." replied Matt. Former Libran Intelligence officer Mark Sarnex was finishing off his own lunch when he let loose a loud belch.

"Gods that sounded fraking chunky, Nightstalker." said Nintius disapprovingly.

"Sign of a good meal, Nina."

"_Good meal? _Gods Sarnex, I'm hungry enough to eat the ass out of a dead daggit, but I can barely stand to swallow a bite out of this algae steak felgercarb."

"Answer me this fair Betty, both you and Matt are from _Aerilon_, but his accent is far more pronounced than yours, why is that? I mean, I can barely detect the slightest trace, but his accent stands out like a nova." asked Mark.

"Easy answer. I traveled a lot as a child due to my father's job. Spent very little time on my home colony." replied Nina.

"Well I hate to eat and run, but I have to be meeting someone at 1330 hours. See you all later." said Mark standing up. He grabbed his tray and emptied the contents in the proper bins, he was soon gone. Matt was stabbing away at his lunch, not really eating anything.

"Okay Heph, now that I've got you alone I'd like to ask you something." said Nina. Matt lowered his fork and looked up. "Apollo! What _really_ happened on the _Prometheus?_"

"He got away during the confusion of the attack by those black marketeers." said Matt without expression.

"Oh felgercarb! You know full fraking well what happened." challenged Nina quietly. "You had your weapon drawn on him, I saw it with my own two eyes, you let them go..._why?_" Matt pushed back his tray and exhaled loudly. He pulled in close to Nina and spoke softly.

"Nina, I respect and admire Lee Adama greatly. Same goes for Laura Roslin, she may have been wrong for talking Starbuck into jumping back to _Caprica_ for some mythical object, but the old man was even more in the wrong for arresting her, and trying to strip her of the presidency. We were not in a state of martial law, Adama had not the right."

"You got it wrong Hephaestus. She suborned mutiny on a military warship, lost a military asset, namely the raider, and put us all at risk. Providing Starbuck even makes it all the way back to _Caprica_, which is highly unlikely. What about the radiation? What about an occupation force most likely still there?"

"Look lass, I have no intention o' explainin myself to you or anyone else on this ship. If you be feelin compelled, feel free to report me to the old man, and let the chips fall where they be."

"Easy Matt!" said Nina. "I've known you long enough to know you're a decent guy, and you're an honorable one to boot. I'm sure you had your reasons. But do me a favor and don't jerk me around, I'm your friend, _and this storm hasn't passed yet."_

**Rebel Fleet - Orbit of Kobol**

In the Command Center of the _Astral Queen, _Tom Zarek was following his security chief at a brisk walk, Meier had just moments before pulled him out of a meeting with Laura Roslin and the council of Twelve. He immediately walked over to the Dradis station.

"It jumped into dradis range about two minutes ago." began the security chief. "No Colonial transponder, and it's too large to be Thrace's Cylon Raider."

"And no response to our hails?" asked Zarek.

"Not a peep, Tom. It's either a Cylon vessel or it's a Raptor scout from _Galactica_. Either way, we should shoot first, and ask questions later." warned Meier. Zarek was in agreement. The Adriatic was one of a handful of civilian ships that were armed with point defense turrets and ship-to-ship missiles. The contact was closing fast, and Meier urged Zarek to shoot it down immediately.

"Shoot _what_ down?" came the voice of Laura Roslin now entering the room. No answer was given to her. "Do I have to repeat myself?" said Laura icily. Meier started to answer her when he was cut off from Lee. Seconds ticked by as the unidentified ship closed well within weapons range. With no Colonial transponder present, Lee was just about to urge Roslin to shoot it down as well when the wireless crackled to life.

"_Civilian vessels, civilian vessels...the is Starbuck, do you read?"_


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42.

Lee stood outside the airlock that led to the hanger bay, he had a thousand questions for Kara, the least of which was how she arrived piloting a Cylon Heavy Raider after she left in a Raider of the smaller bio-mechanical variety. The hatch slowly opened, and out stepped Kara in a Caprica Buccaneers Pyramid team warm-up suit, and a long black cylindrical tube slung over her shoulder. Her blond hair was tied tightly in a small ponytail, and Lee felt his heart skip a beat. The two embraced warmly, both feeling a wave of relief to see each other alive and well. Without warning, Lee kissed Kara passionately on the lips, much to either of their surprise, and that of Laura Roslin. They both pulled back, Kara surprised and Lee slightly embarrassed. The president stepped forward and greeted her, it was then that Kara informed Lee that she had to tell him something important. She never got the chance to, walking out the airlock came Lt. Sharon "Boomer" Valerii, by now a known Cylon agent. One that had attempted to murder Lee's father.

Lee's face was a contorted mask of murderous rage as he lunged towards Boomer. Pent up fury at the instrument of his father's near-death filled him filled him with a desire to put a bullet through her head. The barrel of his gun digging into her left cheek as Kara desperately tried to put herself in-between them. The words _"Stop! She's with us."_ barely registering. He felt the cold end of the muzzle on the base of his neck, as a voice pleaded with him to drop his weapon.

"Gentlemen, I'm only going to say this once. Captain Adama, and... what is your name?" began Laura.

"Lt. Agathon." replied Helo, not taking his eyes off Apollo.

"He used to be Sharon's ECO." informed Lee. "I thought you were dead, Helo. You a Cylon too?"

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna lower your weapons. Am I being perfectly clear?" ordered the president in a firm voice.

"What about Sharon?" demanded Helo.

"She will be taken to a holding cell, where she'll remain unharmed." The two men reluctantly lowered their weapons, and Lee released his grip on Boomer. Helo was quickly disarmed by Zarek's security forces.

"_Now put that thing out the airlock!"_ ordered Roslin. Boomer was quickly restrained and dragged towards the exit leading to a nearby airlock. Helo protested, unable to believe what he was hearing, the same two security guards had now taken a hold of his muscular arms. "We don't keep Cylons around here, Lieutenant!" said Roslin, now that he was disarmed. Helo stood well over six feet, and with little effort started to pull himself free of the security forces trying to keep him restrained. Lee had tried to reason with him.

"Helo, listen to me. One of those _things_ put two rounds into my father's chest." yelled Lee.

"It wasn't me!" cried Sharon fighting the men attempting to drag her to the airlock. Starbuck was stunned, she didn't know that Adama had been shot. Helo pleaded for Kara to help, to remember that Sharon had saved their lives back on Caprica. The room was pandemonium, and Sharon finally looked directly at the president and spoke in a loud, clear voice. "_I know how to find the Tomb of Athena, do you?" _This caught Laura's full attention, as the humanoid Cylon continued. "Kobol's a big planet. You don't find the tomb, you don't find Earth!" She disappeared around the corner.

**Combat Air Patrol – two days later**

Matt's viper sailed across the solar winds that the fleet traveled upon. His wing man was Nightstalker for this patrol. They were missing twenty four ships, and the loss was keenly felt by all. His viper which was damaged earlier, had been replaced temporarily with a Mk. II. They had been passing the _Stryker _whenMark Sarnex broke the silence.

"_What do you think the old man will do about Kobol, and Roslin's rebellion?" _asked Mark_. _They were speaking over a secured frequency, not one that _Galactica_ normally monitored. It was a private frequency often used between the CAP to chatter amongst themselves to pass the time without tying up the normal combat frequency.

"Not sure," replied Matt. "The commander was pretty adamant bout letting them go their own way. He views em as disloyal, and if they're stupid enough to follow some religious mumbo jumbo spewed by Roslin then they deserve whatever happens to em."

"_And what do you think, skipper?" pressed Sarnex._

"You know my thoughts on the matter, Night. Be not the need for me broadcastin it for the cosmos to hear. Nobody cares what I think, anyway._" _replied Matt.

"_You're the CAG, Heph! Your very coarse, ill-pronounced word might as well be the very word of the Lords of Kobol themselves." _teased the Libran.

"Oh frak off! Besides...I'm the _actin_ CAG. The truth of the matter is we're fraked! I have no idea how we're gonna make due wit some of the ships we lost. Some be critical, I just don't know how we're gonna replace em."

"_When are you getting your bird back?" _said Mark trying to change the subject.

"Tyrol has it just about patched up, I can tell ya he was none too pleased to be patchin up a Mk. VII. Not many spare parts for them lyin about, especially wit the damage it took in that last battle."

"_Do you really think the old man will just leave a quarter of the fleet at Kobol? What about Earth?"_ asked Nightstalker.

"Not if this _old man_ has anything to say about it, lieutenant!" this was the voice of Commander Adama himself over the private frequency. "Actual to CAP... return to _Galactica, _we're leaving!" Matt and Mark locked eyes from across the void, each wondering what was happening.

**Pilot's Ready Room – 2 hours later**

Commander Adama had finally entered the room with Tigh and Tactical Officer Gaeta right behind him. He was wearing tactical fatigues with a sidearm, a sight Matt and the others were unaccustomed to seeing. Next to him in the well-worn leather seats were Racetrack, Chief Tyrol, former president Roslin's chief of staff Billy Keikeya, and Raptor 1's pilot, Hawkeye.

Adama cleared his throat and removed his glasses. "Thank you all for coming. As you all know, I've decided to put the fleet back together. Our mission is to jump to _Kobol_ with Raptor 1 and find the former president's landing party, which by now should be well into their search for the Tomb of Athena." Lt. Gaeta had inserted a flash drive into a side port on the computer, and the 52 inch monitor directly behind the podium came to life. With a remote control, Adama displayed various geographical locations of _Kobol_, with a several different colored routes leading to one mountain range that contained twin peaks.

"Our destination is somewhere in the vicinity of these twin peaks," said Adama using the laser pointer to circle the peaks. "as you can see by the different colored routes, identified as _Alpha, Bravo,_ _Constellation_ and _Delta_, these are the most logical routes that they could take to get to the peaks. The terrain is rocky, and by no means easy, especially for a team to navigate them without appropriate equipment, which I doubt they have. We will make an inter-atmosphere jump and scan each one of these routes until we find them. We will then land and make contact...carefully."

"Are we expecting Cylons, Commander?" asked Matt.

"We have to assume there will be, however, we destroyed the orbiting Baseship, so whoever is left has been stranded there for awhile. The rebel teams will most likely be armed, and surprised by our arrival, so I can't stress enough the importance of caution. The CAG will be co-piloting with Hawkeye, and Racetrack will be the ECO. Chief Tyrol is intimately familiar with area Delta from his prior landing on _Kobol_, and Mr. Keikeya will be our liaison to the former president. Duty uniforms will be Urban battle dress utilities with standard sidearms. Mr. Gaeta has taken the liberty of printing you up a brief synopsis of the overall plan and will now distribute them. Questions?" No one had said anything, and Adama wrapped things up. "We're skids up in four hours... dismissed!"

**Combat Information Center**

"_Raptor 1, Galactica... you're cleared for departure, good hunting!" _said Tigh over the comline. Hawkeye disengaged the magnetic locks and the fifty ton Raptor lifted off the deck. Throttling up, they were soon clear of the cavernous flight pod and putting distance between itself and its mother ship. Matt was receiving the jump coordinates from Racetrack, and began to spool up the FTL drive. Moments later they vanished.

**Surface of _Kobol_**

The heavy rains had slowed to a drizzle, after hours of trekking up the steep ravines, Lee had called to make camp. The temporary shelters were a welcome respite from the harsh terrain and never ending rain. Lee and Kara were cleaning their weapons, while Laura studied the scrolls. Opposite them sat Tom Zarek and his security chief Meier, neither man he trusted any more than he trusted the humanoid Cylon now sitting close to one of his Raptor pilots. The sight of the two of them together infuriated Lee, and he made no effort to hide his disgust, and distrust.

"Too bad we couldn't stay here eh Kara, Save us the time of finding _Earth?_"

"Guess your parents didn't get their money's worth for your education, eh Lee. Otherwise you'd know that there's no way we could stay on _Kobol_." replied Kara tartly.

"Sorry Kara, I don't buy into the religious mumbo-jumbo of the curse of Zeus upon those who would return to this planet. The climate is perfect, there's water, animal life and vegetation. Who the frak knows if we'll ever find _Earth_."

"This arrow _will_ show us the path to _Earth_, Lee." said Kara gesturing towards the black hard plastic tube that contained the mythical arrow of Apollo that she had taken from the museum back on _Caprica_.

"You're pretty convinced, I hope you're right, because the price we've all paid for this so far as been fraking high." said Lee not taking his eyes off Helo and Sharon. Lee soon stiffened, his senses kicking into high gear, someone had stepped onto one of the many twigs that he had laid about the perimeter as a means of early warning. He and Kara removed the safeties on their weapons, and he signaled the others to fan out. Kara had taken refuge behind a large tree, and Lee waited behind the corner of the shelter. Kara had nodded to him that she was ready to cover him, and he then quickly jumped out into the open, preparing to fire at the intruder. He was stunned to be face to face with his father, who was now leveling an assault rifle in his direction.

"_Lower your weapon, Captain!"_

**Rebel base camp – _Kobol_**

Lee's emotions started to bubble to the surface upon seeing his father. The last time he had seen him, his father lay supine on the plotting table, his very blood pouring from two gunshot wounds to the chest, administered from Lt. Sharon "Boomer" Valerii, who turned out to be a Cylon. His father was still in a medically-induced coma, when circumstances forced Lee to escape with the former president and remain on the run, a fugitive, for weeks until now. The elder Adama lowered his own weapon and quickly closed the distance to Lee, whom he tightly embraced. To all present, the love between father and son, despite the problems of the recent past, was clearly evident.

Matt had walked over towards Starbuck, not taking his eyes off of Tom Zarek. "Is that who I think it is?" he asked softly.

"Yup, former political activist turned infamous terrorist." replied Starbuck. "Oh...and it's good to see you too, Hephaestus!" smiled Kara with more than a hint of sarcasm. Ignoring the sarcasm, Matt smiled and gave Starbuck a once over from head to toe.

"I gather ye lost a few pounds back on _Caprica_, lass?"

"Are you implying that I was fat?" replied Kara with a look of mocked resentment.

"Heaven forbid, lass. Ye look just as sexy now as ye did b'fore, it must be the Buccaneers's training suit, makes yuir arse shake a wee different when ye walk." laughed Matt. Kara smiled and gave him a hug. "In all seriousness Kara, I'm happy to see ye back, alive and in one piece... I missed ye."

"Why Matthew Lensherr, that's the nicest thing that you've ever said to me, and it's obvious you did your best to limit that harsh Aerilonian accent in your delivery, many thanks, farm boy!" said Kara kissing him on the cheek. Looking up, Kara locked eyes with the elder Adama who started to move slowly towards her. Both of them could feel the tears well up in their eyes. While not blood related, the bond between them was no less than father and daughter. They stopped within inches of each other, the older man looking warmly at her, like a father who had just been reunited with a long lost child. Bill Adama brushed a thick strand of Kara's blond hair out from in front of her eye, gently caressing the side of face. No words were spoken, none were needed. In an instant, Kara knew she was instantly forgiven for her actions. The joyous reunion was soon over, she could hear the familiar voice of Chief Tyrol shouting out a warning to the commander who immediately spun around towards the threat. The atmosphere turned ugly the moment Commander Adama spotted the other copy of Boomer.

He slowly walked towards her, as if in a trance. He never even heard the voice of his long missing-in-action Raptor ECO, LT. Karl Agathon informing him that _"she's with us, commander!"_ He looked at her as if seeing her for the very first time, looking to see if this Sharon was different from the one that presently lay in _Galactica's_ morgue. A murderous rage flashed in his deep blue eyes as he grabbed her about the throat and threw her to the ground. Matt immediately raised his weapon towards the nearest armed civilian stranger. Apart from the_Galactica_ crew, and Tom Zarek, he had no idea who the armed civilians were, and he wasn't taking any chances. Chaos erupted as Roslin, Lee and Helo tried to intervene.

"I want you to _die!_" hissed Adama. The unbridled fury bubbling over. Brief flashbacks of Sharon Valerii, as a newly minted Raptor pilot reporting for her first duty aboard Galactica flashed through his mind, followed by the memory of her pointing her sidearm at him and pulling the trigger, then finally her lifeless body laid out in the morgue. A searing pain erupted in his chest, between resuming duties too quickly, to the rough hike from the Raptor to the rebel base camp, he knew he had pushed his body beyond its current limits. He collapsed onto Boomer, who merely whispered in his ear.

"_And you ask why?" _This brought Adama up short, how could she know he had asked that question to the dead copy in _Galactica's_ morgue only days before. He could feel himself being pulled away by Lee, who cradled his pain-wracked body in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Helo picked Boomer up off the ground and held her tightly, affectionately, protectively.

An hour after the confrontation, all had calmed down. Matt was leaning against a large rock outcropping, keeping an eye on things, his weapon at the ready. The commander and former president were off to the side having what looked like a friendly discussion, but one that appeared important. Lee and Kara were talking by the fire, and the man he came to know as Helo was off with the Cylon, their conversation looked serious, and not at all joyous. He couldn't keep his eyes off of Tom Zarek, or his security chief, neither whom he trusted at all. He watched as the two exchanged words, they were very quiet, and the security chief known as Meier did not look happy. Zarek's demeanor revealed a sense of resignation. Meier had walked off into the wooded area, and out of sight. For the next few minutes he watched the various members of the rebel group and his own Raptor team go about business. He noticed Lee Adama siding up next to him.

"Relax Matt, no Cylons to worry about... at least not the toaster variety." said Lee half jokingly.

"I'll relax Apollo, when we be off this frakin planet. Sometin bout this place reeks o' death, and as long as one of the biggest terrorists in Colonial history is in our midst, I won't be lowerin me guard." replied Matt.

"Far be it from me to be vouching for Tom Zarek, but trust me...he's not the real threat here. Keep your eyes glued on Boomer. So I hear you've been moved up to CAG, congratulations," said Lee changing the subject.

"Thanks, but it's yuir job, and I was only keepin the seat warm for ya. I be quite content with bein Silver Spar's squadron leader. Now that yuir father is hell bent on puttin the fleet back together as one big happy family, I be sure he'd rather have you as the CAG, then some Aerilonian dairy farmer. At least the LSO dinna have to ask _you_ to repeat yuirself time an again on final approach."

"You _do_ know that there are techniques to smoothing out your accent, Heph. For the love of the gods, look into it will ya, the LSO isn't the only guy whose ears you make bleed with that frakin coarse accent." laughed Lee, slapping him hard on the shoulder. The two continued to exchange words while the base camp was broken down. It was now time to resume the search for the Tomb of Athena.

**1500 hours – Nearing the twin peaks**

"_You should see this!" _came the shouted voice of Boomer. She and Meier had taken point for this leg of the journey, and the rest of the party picked up their pace along the trail. When they finally reached their Cylon guide, she was facing a large stone structure carved out of the mountainside. Broken columns littered the ground, as untamed vegetation did their best to reclaim the mountainside. Zarek stared dumbfounded at the discovery as Boomer slowly turned to Laura who nodded, and turned to Starbuck.

"Lieutenant Thrace, I hope you have that arrow handy." said Laura bearing a large smile. Kara started to remove the hard plastic cylindrical tube from her back when Boomer quickly withdrew a concealed sidearm and pointed it straight at Commander Adama's chest. Matt reacted with lightning speed, raising his weapon and thumbing off the safety in one fluid motion, the red dot of the laser scope square between Boomer's eyes. Meier was quicker, as he placed the business end of his own four-barreled weapon at the the back of Lee's skull. It was then that Boomer turned towards Lee and Meier and fired one round into Meier's chest. In the confusion, one of Meier's men raised his own weapon and was shot dead by Lee. Matt started to apply pressure to the trigger when the commander raised his hand to ward off taking the shot, Matt stood down, but kept the laser sight squarely on Boomer's head.

Boomer quickly informed Adama that she was not the same Sharon who had attempted to murder him, that she controlled her own actions. In a show of faith she then handed Adama her own weapon, which he took. The two kept their eyes locked upon each other for almost a minute, then it was over just as quickly as it had begun. Zarek had gone to his dying friend's side to comfort him in his final moments, the words between them were spoken softly, and could not be heard by the others. Then it was done, Meier had passed on to the next life. Another payment of blood paid to _Kobol_.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43.

The _Tomb of Athena_ lay before them. Starbuck had spent the last twenty minutes attempting to open the entrance with the arrow. There was no keyhole-type opening to stick the arrow, nor did waving it across the opening produce any results. The elder Adama had stood back observing her efforts, and the opening. He called over Billy, Helo and Lee to help him push open the rock slab while Matt and Tyrol kept their eyes on Zarek. With tremendous effort, the slab slowly moved. Adama told them all to stop once there was enough room to get through the opening. He chose Kara, Laura, Billy and Lee to enter the tomb while the others were to wait outside under Tyrol's watchful eye.

Inside the tomb, scattered remains of broken statues representing the twelve tribes of _Kobol_ lay about the floor. Twelve stone sarcophagi line the interior. The light from the opening illuminated the chamber, and each person was keenly aware that they were standing in the very spot where their sacred scriptures wrote that this was where it all began. It wasn't until Laura identified the statue representing Sagittaron, an archer, that really caught Adama's attention. The archer was missing its arrow. Kara immediately knew what now to do with her arrow. Slipping it onto the arrow rest of the Reflex Bow, the reaction was immediate. The heavy stone slab door slammed shut, encasing them all in darkness.

"_What the frak?" _yelled Matt when the door slammed shut. He shouldered his weapon and ran towards the stone opening, he was joined by Tyrol, and Helo who attempted to force back the slab. Hawkeye was back at the Raptor, so Matt ordered Zarek to help them force the slab, all four men were unable to reopen the tomb. "Boomer, you got some sort o' super Cylon strength or what?" Sharon shook her head, she was just as surprised as the rest of them.

"Sharon, what's happening in there?" demanded Tyrol.

"I honestly don't know, you have to believe me!" replied Boomer. "I'm just as surprised as you are." Tyrol called out loudly for Commander Adama, there wasn't a sound in reply.

"Can we blow the door?" asked Zarek.

"You'd frakin like that, wouldn't ya Zarek... bring the whole tomb right down atop them?" said Matt accusingly. "Then again, you'd know all about that wouldn't ya, kinda like bringin down a government building?" Zarek shot Matt a murderous look, and Tyrol stepped in.

"Lieutenant... ah... perhaps you could recon the area for another entrance?" offered Tyrol trying to defuse the situation. Matt Lensherr was the ranking officer present, but he took the Chief's well-intended advice and walked off.

"Thank you Chief Tyrol." said Tom Zarek graciously. Tyrol just nodded and turned back towards the opening, he didn't like Zarek either.

Starbuck felt as if she had been turned inside out, she was nauseous but clear-headed enough to assume a combat stance, panning her weapon for any threats. She found herself in a chest-high grassy field. The sky above her was filled with stars, and surrounding them were twelve identical stone slabs. It was obviously nighttime and it was deathly quiet, no sound of crickets or any other wildlife that come out at night.

"_Where the hell are we?"_ asked Billy.

"The Tomb of Athena, I think." replied Laura.

"I thought we were already _in_ the tomb." said Adama.

"I think that was the lobby." said Starbuck weakly, her joke falling flat. The massive stones had jewels imbedded in them. Their patterns impossibly matched the constellations in the skies above each slab, the matched constellations shining more brightly then the stars around them.

"Is this a hologram?" asked Billy.

"I really don't know," replied Adama. "I don't know if we've been...transported somehow, or this is some manifestation of Starbuck placing the arrow in the archer's bow."

"This is the map." blurted out Lee. "This is the map to Earth.

"So is Earth one of these constellations?" asked Adama.

"_We're standing on it."_ said Kara, tears streaming down her cheeks. "We're standing _on_ Earth. The scriptures say that when the 13th tribe landed on Earth they looked up into the heavens and saw their 12 brothers."

"Earth is the place where you can look up in the sky, and see the constellations of the Twelve Colonies." interrupted Laura.

"I don't know what good it's gonna do us though," said Starbuck. "Then what are we supposed to do? Search the entire galaxy for one particular star pattern?" Everyone was now beginning to understand the gravity of Kara's question. Lee was glancing at all the monoliths, when one in particular caught his attention.

"_There_. There in Sagittaron, I've seen that before. It's the _Lagoon Nebula_." The Lagoon Nebula was an interstellar cloud in the constellation Sagittarius, and unknown to any of the people standing within the circle of monoliths, estimated to be between 4,000-6,000 light years from the planet they were searching for.

"Astro body M8? That's a long way from here." observed the elder Adama.

"Yeah, but at least now we have a map and a direction." said Lee.

"So, does anyone have an idea of how we're supposed to get back to _Kobol?_" asked Billy, everyone had looked at each other dumbstruck, not one of them had thought about that until now. Starbuck walked towards the monolith that represented _Caprica_. She was instrumental in bringing them all here to this location, perhaps she could find the way back. She ran her hand over the cool stone, her senses were filled with the smell of the meadow, and the stars above her shone brilliantly. Kara decided to do what she frequently did, she prayed to the gods. _Lords of Kobol hear my prayer, please show us the way back to our people._

"Don't stray too far, Kara. I want us all kept close together in case the others find a way to get to us, or we have to go out and search this area. Wherever the hell we are!" said Commander Adama.

"Didn't Lt. Thrace say we were on _Earth?_" asked Billy confused. He received no answer. Looking past the monolith, Kara strained to make out any detail in the area beyond. It was pitch black, and it was deathly quiet. She took a deep breath and walked past the monolith. Once more she felt herself twisted inside out as complete blackness enveloped her.

When she recovered, she discovered that they were all back within the tomb, and the heavy stone slab was wide open. "What the frak just happened?"

Helo and Tyrol came running in with weapons drawn followed by Sharon and Zarek. Matt brought up the rear. "Is everyone okay, what happened?" demanded Tyrol.

"We're okay, Chief." assured Adama. "How long were we out of contact?" Galen Tyrol looked confused, and quickly glanced at Helo.

"Commander... the door slammed shut without warning. We tried to force entry, but the door wouldn't give, then it just slid back open. I'd say about a minute to two minutes tops."

"_Two minutes?_ We were looking at those monoliths for at least a half an hour." said Billy.

"What monoliths?" asked Zarek looking about the room. "All I see is a bunch of broken statues and sarcophagi in this chamber." The five of them just looked at each other. What just happened? Were they transported to Earth? Was the entire circle of monoliths and the meadow an elaborate hologram? There were no projectors within the chamber, nothing even remotely modern. From the dust layers and smell, the chamber hadn't been opened since Athena's alleged suicide and internment. No answers would be given, and each had deep down knew that something unexplainable had just transpired.

"Our work is done here, let's get back to the fleet." ordered Adama.

"And the Arrow of Apollo?" asked Laura.

"_It's now where it rightfully belongs."_ answered Kara solemnly. Commander Adama nodded in agreement. The group departed the tomb and made their way to a large clearing where the Raptor was instructed to pick them all up.

**Assembly - Port Hanger Bay Two Days Later**

Commander William Adama was in his full dress uniform standing behind the podium. The President and Vice President were present, as were members of the media, Quorum members, ship captains and many of his crew. His piercing blue eyes looked out over the hushed assembly, then spoke from the heart.

"We have struggled since the attacks...trying to rely on one another. Our strength, and our only hope as a people is to remain _undivided_." His eyes focusing on his son Lee, and Laura as he emphasized the last word. "We haven't always done all we could to ensure that. Many people believe that the scriptures, the letters from the gods, will lead us to salvation. Maybe they will. _But the gods shall lift __those who lift each other." _he said, quoting from one well known verses. "And so, to lift all of us, let me present once again, the President of the Colonies, Laura Roslin." The applause started off lightly, but when Commander Adama himself stepped forward to prolong her applause, the sound of clapping grew thunderous. Laura was overwhelmed, and she smiled at deep from her heart towards Bill Adama.

**Star System 147 Constellation – One week after departing _Kobol_**

"Jump completed. Dradis shows all ships present and accounted for, sir." announced Gaeta after the _Galactica_ emerged from her faster than light jump into the new system before them. This star system was unremarkable at first glance. No planetary objects within maximum dradis range, only pockets of large asteroid fields were scattered throughout the system.

"Thank you, Mr. Gaeta."replied Adama from the plotting table. "Dee, launch the recon patrol and the CAP if you would."

"Aye sir." replied petty officer Dualla. The Combat Air Patrol was launched immediately to set up the part of a battlestar's early warning network, and defensive posture for the fleet. The pilots were assigned from Starbuck's squadron. The reconnaissance patrol consisted of Hephaestus and Nightstalker, along with Raptor 1 manned by Nina "Betty" Nintius and Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson. Lieutenant Karl Agathon was not yet placed back on flight status, his prolonged exposure on Caprica, and lack of any flight time since he voluntarily gave up his seat to Gaius Baltar in the opening attacks had left Lee to temporarily place him in an abbreviated retraining. To refamiliarize him with the Raptor, and for him to acclimate himself to new flight and patrol procedures that were implemented after the attacks.

"_Hephaestus, Betty...ready to check out the new neighborhood?" _came the voice of Nina Nintius over the comline.

"That's an affirmative, Betty. See you on the outside." replied Matt as he gave the "Shooter" a thumbs up. His viper was soon hurled headlong down the launch tube and out into space. His wing man, Nightstalker, was momentarily at his side. The two starfighters came alongside Betty's Raptor.

"_So we're finally on our way to Earth, eh?" _asked Nina.

"From what Apollo said down on _Kobol_, at least now we have a direction. The Lagoon Nebula is a long frakin way from here, lass. I hope yuir not in a hurry to get there." answered Matt.

"_I can't believe we've got Boomer back on board in the brig. I guess the Cylons don't stay dead very long, eh?_" asked Nighstalker.

"Cut the chatter on that subject, Mark. One, that ain't the Boomer we all knew. Second, the commander has placed her existence under the highest security measures available. No one outside of a select number on the Galactica even know we have her in custody. Far as they all know...Sharon "Boomer" Valerii stopped converting oxygen to carbon dioxide a long time ago."

"_How long do you think they'll be able to keep her under wraps? Eventually word will leak out."_ said Nina.

"I'll be lettin those wit more rank on their collar than mine to worry 'bout it." replied Matt.

_**Colonial One**_** – President Roslin's Office**

D'Anna Biers stood in the narrow room, the two large Marines who picked her up from her own ship had escorted her to _Colonial One_, and now stood guard at the doorway. For someone not under arrest, she sure wasn't feeling like it. The door behind the desk slid open, and out stepped President Roslin in a neat gray suit jacket and skirt. Commander Adama, in his duty blue uniform was right behind her.

"Hello Miss Biers. It's nice to see you, Welcome to _Colonial One_." she said warmly, extending her hand to the tall blond journalist before her.

"Madam President, it's an honor." replied D'Anna, firmly shaking her hand. She stood well over Laura Roslin, but immediately felt the inner power of this woman. She turned to face the commander of the Galactica, his craggy face bore no smile. "Commander Adama." she greeted, extending her hand.

Without any greeting, or pretense...Adama got straight to business. "_Where did you get the tape?"_

D'Anna leveled her gaze at the man, aware that the president was studying her reactions closely. Taking a breath, she flatly declared "From an anonymous _patriot!_" The atmosphere of the room seemed to grow colder, she decided to shoot one across the old man's bow. "So, is this a social call, or are we on the verge of _another_ coup?"

"Funny." replied Adama with no sense of amusement. The two locked eyes, and D'Anna knew that Adama was here strictly for business. One that she figured would not be to her liking.

"I take it I'm here because you are unhappy with my story on the _Gideon_ massacre?" asked D'Anna.

"What happened aboard the Gideon was a tragedy. But it was _not_ a massacre!" said Adama calmly.

"But the tape shows your men firing into a crowd of defenseless civilians." began D'Anna.

"My Marines tell a different story." said Adama cutting her off.

"_Not to me."_ she shot back, clearly a challenge. Turning now to the president, she decided to press the issue. "I've submitted a dozen interview requests...all denied."

"Well, that's about to change." replied Roslin matter of factly.

**Combat Information Center – Three Days Later**

Tigh stood by the plotting table with a scowl plastered across his face, a look that everyone knew was a sure sign to stay off the executive officer's dradis. He clearly did not like the news he just heard, and was going to let Adama know about it. "Damn it Bill, what fraking business does that woman have in pilot's country? I got two junior officers with their heads up their asses, running around in their towels as if they were back in high school Phys Ed playing gods-damned grab ass with each other. _And it's all on fraking tape!"_

"She was assured unrestricted access, Saul. With the exception of sensitive or high security areas, she has full access to the ship. She's here to do a job, give the people of the fleet a real look at what our people do."

"And what an eyeful they're getting." groused Tigh. "Isn't this woman Lensherr's girlfriend? Can't you tell him to get her to do a fluff piece and get her pretty little ass back to her ship where she belongs?" Adama usually allowed his old friend and XO a large degree of latitude, but he was slowly starting to lose patience, and interest in this conversation. He leaned in close and kept his voice low enough for only them to hear.

"Look Saul, I'm not happy she's here either, but her "project" is a direct result of what happened on the _Gideon_, so do me a personal favor, suck it up and help me make this process as quick and painless as possible, okay?" Saul Tigh knew his friend would never come out and say that this was his fault in some small way, but he got the message.

"Understood commander." replied Tigh.

"The CAG handled the issue with Kat and Hot Dog, as far as I'm concerned that matter is _closed_. But you may want to inform section chiefs and squadron leaders to talk to their people about maintaining their professionalism and military bearing while Miss Biers is aboard. After all, this is _still_ a military warship." Colonel Tigh nodded in agreement and started off to pass the commander's "advice" on to the appropriate people.

The days had passed slowly as D'Anna and her camera man from the Fleet News Service made the rounds interviewing members of _Galactica's_ crew. She met with officers from the command staff, down to the lowest ranking private in the mess hall, all giving a ten minute interviews which she would later painstakingly edit. Matthew Lensherr had been on the recon patrol when D'Anna arrived aboard with Commander Adama from _Colonial One_. He was just now getting a chance to see her. She was held tightly in his arms in the privacy of his four man stateroom. Her cameraman, Patrick Bell, was given the morning off to do some editing so she could spend some time alone with Matt.

"You have no idea how good it is to see ya, lass." said Matt smiling. "It's been far too long." He gently brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her. Her lips were soft, and her scent pleasantly filled Matt's nostrils.

"I was beginning to wonder if you found another woman over here, Matthew. There _are_ quite a few attractive young crewmen, and pilots." teased D'Anna.

"Perish the thought, none of them as beautiful as you." She smiled broadly and pulled Matt in close to her. Her green eyes staring deep into his own as she kissed him passionately. "How long will you be aboard Galactica?"

"As long as needed, but the president has made it clear, that a finished project is better far sooner than later. The Gideon Massacre has pissed off a lot of people throughout the fleet."

"Why do you insist on calling it a massacre, our Marines were defending themselves from a violent crowd." said Matt

"A crowd that was legally exercising their rights to voice their displeasure at having Martial Law rammed down their throats, and a Marine boarding party coming in like a pack of snarling gorillas to take away goods that the civilians of those ships worked hard to produce." shot back D'Anna.

"They were refusing to resupply Galactica, Tigh had absolutely no choice but to do what he did. I myself woulda given the same orders if I was in his place." defended Matt. "Joe Palladino was the pilot in charge of that boarding party... trust me, Joe would never authorize those men to fire on unarmed civilians!"

"Would that be Joe "_Hammerhead"_ Palladino?" asked D'Anna with a raised eyebrow. "That pilot is definitely on my list to interview, along with the Marines he commanded that day."

"Look love, ye know I wouldna even attempt to tell you how to run yuir story, but just try and remember that the men and women board this ship put their very lives on the line every day to protect you, and the rest o' this fleet. They more than deserve a fair and balanced accounting."

"My loving fire god, how could you possibly think I'd give anything but?" said D'Anna feigning exaggerated innocence. "By the way, is it just my imagination, or are you losing that sexy Aerilonian brogue of yours?" said D'Anna slipping her the fingers on her hand along the waistband of Matt's duty trousers while gently blowing in his ear.

"Just makin an effort to _pro-noun-ce_ my every syllable. From what I'm told, it prevents the LSO or communications officer from keep having to ask me to repeat my last transmission, or hitting the replay button." said Matt with a sly grin, making every attempt to say each word correctly.

"Beware Hephaestus, if your not careful you'll end up sounding like a fraking Caprican in no time!" laughed D'Anna. "Well, I gave Bell the morning off... let's put our free time to use." She took a pair of nearby boots and placed them outside the hatch which she closed and then locked. She slowly unbuttoned her blouse.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44.

Life aboard the _Galactica_ had gotten a little livelier with the arrival of D'Anna Biers, she could be found everywhere at any time. Attempts to give her and her cameraman tours through the labyrinth of the engineering section, or explaining the way air scrubbing equipment functioned efficiently no longer worked. She had unlimited access, and she was doing her best to utilize every ounce of it. Upon hearing of the threat scrawled in blood on the mirror in Colonel Tigh's quarters, she attempted to get a statement from him or his wife Ellen, both ended up in failure. The _Gideon_ story refused to die down, and representatives were meeting on _Cloud Nine_ to discuss it. D'Anna was slightly surprised to hear Tigh dismiss the meeting as a "king-sized bitch session." Commander Adama had made his decision, his executive officer would be going to represent the _Galactica_, and that decision _was not_ open for debate.

**Combat Information Center**

"Commander Adama, I have the Master-at-Arms on the line." informed Dualla.

"Patch it down here, Dee." The connection was quickly made and Adama lifted the receiver from its cradle. "Sergeant Hadrian, what can I do for you?"

"_Sir, there's been another incident involving Colonel Tigh. It looks like the Raptor he was supposed to fly to Cloud Nine in was sabotaged. There are no injuries, but the Chief of the deck reports that the Raptor will be down for repairs for at least four hours." _What was going on here, thought Adama, first the threat scrawled in blood, now serious sabotage that could have resulted in deaths and damage or possible destruction to a Raptor. This was no longer some prank. Someone was out for Tigh.

**Pilot's Rec Room**

The fumarello smoke hung thick in the air, taxing the ventilation system to its limits. This Triad game had been in the makings for weeks. There were six players at the table, two marines, a medic, Vice President Gauis Baltar, Captain Aaron Kelly and Starbuck. A sizable contingent of pilots filled the room, and a smattering of Marine non-commissioned officers, and a Marine lieutenant; Terry Burrell watched while drinking their beers, or the whiskey created by an unknown group of knuckledraggers in an illicit still.

Kara Thrace had a sizable pile of cubits neatly stacked in front of her half empty beer stein, several gold or silver rings or amulets were mixed in as part of the wager. A thin fumarello dangled off her pouted lips as delicate fingers played with the cards. One of the Marines had folded much to the displeasure of his fellow Marines who surrounded the table. "That's one down._"_ she announced casually. Captain Kelly was the Landing Signals Officer, otherwise known as the LSO, for the Galactica. He was also third in command. Even though he was a qualified pilot, he seldom hung around the pilot's rec room, preferring to spend his time in the ship's gymnasium working out, or associating with officers from the command staff in their own rec room. He counted off six gold cubits and tossed them into the pot, resulting in the medic folding. "Feeling lucky, eh Aaron? asked Starbuck.

"You can say that, Starbuck." he replied. "Whats the matter, not used to someone going the distance with you in Triad?" The catcalls and laughter trickled through the room. The playful banter barely hid the seriousness that all the players were feeling in this game. At that moment, Matthew Lensherr dressed in civilian clothes walked into the room with D'Anna Biers. Her cameraman Bell bringing up the rear. Patrick Bell walked over to the corner of the room where some crates were piled up waist high. He climbed atop them and started panning the room with the camera, finally settling on the card table. Starbuck caught sight of the two from the Fleet News Service and just rolled her eyes. She knew that D'Anna and Matt were an item, and she also knew that they had spent an hour or so alone in Matt's quarters earlier. With the boots positioned outside the locked hatch, she knew full well that the two were going at it.

"Hey Hephaestus, with the boots back in your quarters can I assume that our Fleet News chick is back on the clock?" asked Kara loudly. If D'Anna was embarrassed or angry, she didn't show it in the least. The laughter was mild, and Matt merely gave Kara an obscene hand gesture which Kara received with a wide grin. She looked over towards Bell and yelled out. "_Hey camera dude, make sure you get a good frakin close-up of their faces when I clean their chronometers with this hand, alright!" _Bell gave a thumbs-up sign and continued filming. Kara had looked over towards the Marine corporal named Madsen. "Okay big and ugly, you in or what?" The corporal stood over six and a half feet, his close-cropped brown hair yet to show a trace of gray. On both arms were a sleeve of tattoos, the most recent one of a bent-over Cylon centurion having a sex act perpetrated on it by a grinning Colonial Marine with a thumbs up sign. From his boot, he withdrew a long, black non-regulation dagger that had been crafted on _Tauron. _It had_ Ha'la'tha _markings etched on it, which didn't go unnoticed.

"Does that pretty little mouth of yours ever stop running, Starbuck?" He said, more statement than question.

D'Anna looked at Matt and whispered in his ear, "doesn't she outrank that Marine?" Matt took a moment to explain to her that in a Triad game, there was no rank or title to hide behind or fear. It was an unspoken rule amongst the pilots that was never broken, the Colonial Marines had the same unspoken rule. The fact that there were few commissioned Marine officers aboard Galactica made such a rule far easier.

"Only when I'm drinking, gorilla boy." said Starbuck blowing the Marine a kiss encased in fumarello smoke.

"Come on Madsen, smoke her ass!" yelled out Terry Burrell.

"Perhaps you should put your cubits on the table, Terry?" replied Starbuck gesturing to the seat vacated by the now close-to-broke medic. "Always room for another gorilla, and especially one that receives officer pay!"

"Perhaps Lieutenant Thrace, you should stay contented with the formidable opposition you currently face." chimed in the vice president, his own cubit stash considerable. He was sipping a bright green liquor from a crystal glass that was adorned in ornate silver banding, and the ashtray at his side firmly held the expensive fumarello that had been hand-wrapped aboard the black market ship _Prometheus. _Gaius Baltar was a frequent guest at the card table, much to the President's displeasure.

"Why Doctor, how could I ever forget?" purred Starbuck batting her eyelashes.

"Is that a real _Ha'la'tha _dagger?_" _asked D'Anna stepping up behind Madsen.

"You plan on making it part of your story Miss Biers?" asked Madsen taking a long pull of his beer. D'Anna motioned to Bell to get a close-up of the dagger and the Marine, as she turned on her tape recorder. "Well let me tell you how this little trinket came into my possession. Back before the attack on the Colonies, I was stationed at Camp Hypatia with the 32nd Colonial Marine division. Me and a couple of buddies were out on leave and decided to go catch the _Olympian Stallions_ face off against the _Mangala Krill _at the Hypatia sports arena. At half time, a couple of dirt-eaters with face tattoos decided to make a life-altering decision out at the concession stands. They tried to hold me up."

"Life-altering?" repeated D'Anna for the camera.

"Yeah, you see these dirt-eaters told me that I had to pay tribute to the _Ha'la'tha _for the privilege of living in Hypatia. They considered the Colonial military's presence on their frakin mud ball sacrilegious. This little fraker with his stupid tattooed face, got up close and personal and demanded payment, or he'd gut me with _this_ dagger you see here on the table. Before he could react, I spat a wad of chew right into his eyes, causing him to drop his guard. Grabbed his knife hand firmly in my own, then heel-kicked his buddy in the balls with all my might."

"What happened to the man with the knife and..._wad of chew_ in his eyes?" asked D'Anna. The Marine leaned over close to D'Anna and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened slightly. "I guess his friend got the better end of the deal, or I should say his _balls_ got the better end of the deal."

"Yeah, I'd say so." grunted Madsen. Baltar detested the coarseness of the conversation, almost as much as he detested Colonial Marines. He felt that the majority of them were uncultured louts whose bicep measurements beat out their IQ's.

"Yes corporal, I'm sure the story of the poor Tauron's testicles is indeed riveting, but could you please get back to the game." said Baltar formally.

"Why Mr. Vice President, it's what I live for!" said Madsen sarcastically. "Let's see what ya got, Doc."

"_Action stations, action stations...set condition one throughout the ship, incoming Cylon fighters, this is not a drill." _The alert sent pilots scrambling for the hanger bay, a neutral observer was tasked with guarding the table until the players returned. D'Anna kissed Matt goodbye and wished him good hunting and then directed Bell to follow the pilots to the hanger and get some footage while she ran up to the CIC. Her long legs moved with almost perfect grace and speed as she ascended deck after deck in record time until she reached the very center of the aging Battlestar where the CIC was fully protected.

Forty Cylon raiders had jumped into the fleet's security envelope from different positions, not their usual numbers for an attack, or tactic. They buzzed around the civilian ships without firing a shot, as if gauging the defenses. Several armed civilian ships opened up with their point defense turrets, attempting to put up a defense until the vipers would arrive. Four viper squadrons split up throughout the fleet, engaging the enemy.

"_Galactica to all vipers...confirmed count of forty Cylon raiders, no baseships!" _announced Dualla over the combat frequency. Raptors were airborne, directing vipers towards enemy targets, targets that now started to fight back.

"Alright people, looks like the raiders have woken up and decided to fight back," announced Apollo. "Weapons free...take it to them!"

Viper 1698 was one of the oldest Mk. II vipers still in service, it was flown by Lt. Pete "Mouthwash" Harper. Harper had graduated from one of the last viper training classes prior to the attack on the colonies. Short and thin with a baby face, his call sign was derived from a humorous incident that had taken place one evening in the cadet rec watching a documentary about the adult socialator film industry on one of Picon's local cable channels. One of the classmates was commenting on how this male actor got paid fifty thousand cubits for doing 20-minute pornography scene with another man. After much discussion around the rec room, Harper casually made the comment that 50,000 cubits would buy a lot of mouthwash. Hence, his call sign was established once Senior Flight Instructor Horlach heard the story.

"_Mouthwash, Starbuck... twin raiders on your six, drop and roll." _Harper was quick to follow his squadron leader's command, he banked hard on his navi-hilt while hitting the reverse thrust that allowed his ship to do the required defensive tactic. The loud bang, accompanied by a violent shudder surprised the pilot. The roll continued as he attempted to regain control of the viper. The raiders were quick to compensate for his move and re-engaged him, filling the fuselage with 30 mm rounds. Avionic failure alarms blared through the cockpit as another volley of rounds shattered the canopy.

"_Mouthwash get out of there!" _shouted Starbuck as she brought her own viper around to intercept the raiders. She quickly established a lock on the closest raider and fired, destroying it utterly. She moved onto the second raider that deftly evaded her cannon-fire, pulling away at high speed. "_Frak, I've got a broke lock, anyone free to help out here?" _called out Starbuck, using the term for a loss of dradis lock. Two more vipers came to Harper's aid, Apollo and Hammerhead. The battered, old viper started to shut down across the board. Harper couldn't fire his weapons nor control his fighter, he knew he was in serious trouble.

"_Mouthwash, Apollo... punch out of there, we'll cover you!_" ordered Lee. Harper reached down between his knees and grabbed the pull handle of his ejection seat. Had he not been in the soundless vacuum of space, he would have heard the loud bang caused by the shattered canopy separating. Unfortunately, the second part of the ejection process failed, his seat remained firmly in place. "_Pete, get the frak out of there, now!" _Apollo could see the raider bearing down and increased the speed of his Mk. VII viper. He depressed the trigger, watching as the rounds went downrange to the target, knowing that it would do no good. The Cylon Raider didn't fire, instead it rammed the crippled viper at full speed as the young viper pilot looked on in horror, as he repeatedly tried to eject from his doomed star fighter. The explosion was brilliant, and death was immediate. The vipers quickly made short work of the remaining raiders. Two Heavy Raiders broke off and sped for _Galactica, _despite the best efforts of the point defense turrets and vipers, the two raiders closed within killer range.

**Combat Information Center**

"Two turkeys inside our security perimeter, unable to take them out!" yelled out Gaeta. D'Anna focused intently on Adama, gauging his every response. Bell was close by, capturing the moment on his video camera.

"Point defense to _indiscriminate._" ordered Tigh. The flak was now so thick around _Galactica_, that no viper, not even one piloted by Starbuck, would dare enter the perimeter. One Heavy Raider was immediately blown apart, the second one banked with extreme skill and dove beneath the mighty Battlestar. A moment later a blinding flash appeared beneath the ship. Within seconds, system failures were widespread, only emergency lights functioned.

"What the frak just happened, Mr. Gaeta?" yelled Tigh from the plotting table. Gaeta was quickly at Adama and Tigh's side to report.

"Sirs, the Heavy Raider detonated an EMP, I caught the spike a split second before detonation." reported Gaeta.

"_EMP?_" queried D'Anna. Tigh shot her an annoyed look and replied acidly.

"_Electro Magnetic Pulse_... what's the matter, didn't your high school science teacher explain it to you?" Adama ignored his exec's rude outburst and turned towards Mr. Gaeta.

"Lieutenant, how long to reboot critical systems?"

"Unknown sir, _Galactica's_ shielding took the brunt, it'll take me a few minutes to determine whats been fried and what's serviceable." replied Gaeta.

"I want the weapons and dradis brought back online immediately, lieutenant. This could be the prelude to an attack."

"What about our fighters, we have no idea how many have been disabled?" asked Tigh.

"Apollo will recognize the EMP and know we're offline. If he's able, he'll fly in close to attempt visual signals, send a runner topside and instruct the gun captains use the old manual signal lamps to try and establish contact with him and get the air wing's sitrep." ordered Adama. D'Anna who had listened carefully to the exchange finally spoke up.

"Commander, what _exactly_ happened here?"

"The Cylon raider detonated an Electro Magnetic Pulse, or EMP if you will. It's a burst of electromagnetic radiation usually produced by the detonation of a nuclear weapon, or perhaps a sudden massive flux in a magnetic field." explained Adama.

"We were nuked?"

"No, our dradis would have detected the nuke and sound the radiological warning. There was no such warning. We have to assume that the raider was equipped to produce a massive EMP in an attempt to disable our defenses... which it did." Gaeta had returned with mixed news.

"Sir, damage reports slowly coming in, it's along what we would expect from a small EMP." began the tactical officer. Adama motioned for him to explain the situation for D'Anna and her camera man as well. "A Cylon Heavy Raider is much larger than a conventional raider, and there was no indication that it was carrying nukes, so we have to conclude that it used an explosively pumped flux compression generator to create the pulse. Had they used an actual nuke, the damage would have been far greater. Fortunately, a Colonial Battlestar was designed with incredibly heavy shielding, they take a tremendous amount of punishment."

"Why only one EMP detonation?" asked D'Anna.

"We have to assume that the second Heavy Raider was similarly equipped, but was taken out before it could detonate, much to the credit of our gun crews, and PDT's (Point Defense Turrets)." added Gaeta.

"_Apollo to all squadron leaders, do an accountability check of your pilots, it looks like the Heavy Raiders fired off an EMP. I'm going to try and signal Galactica visually." _Lee Adama passed over the debris of several raiders and two disabled vipers closest to _Galactica. _He slowed on approach to the vipers, and each pilot gave him a thumbs up indicating they were physically okay. While their fighters were disabled, their personal environmental controls and oxygen were still functioning on emergency power. He took note of who the pilots were and continued on the way to his base ship which drifted, its engines still powered down. Passing high over the dorsal side of Galactica, Lee caught sight of the first visual signal produced by the men occupying the gun batteries using the old manual signal lamps.

_Galactica suffered non-nuclear EMP blast...stop. Weapons, propulsion and Dradis down...stop. Attempting restart...stop. Requesting air wing status, all functioning vipers to remain on station until further notice...stop._

Frak! This is not good, thought Lee. He maintained his position and started to signal flash his report. Two Vipers destroyed, eight Vipers and one Raptor disabled from the EMP wave. He knew the ship captains of the three armed civilian ships would redeploy to protect the fleet until _Galactica_ was back to full strength, but towing the disabled ships would take time, never mind the repairs _Galactica_ would need.

"_Apollo, Starbuck... what's the plan boss?"_

"Starbuck, we're gonna maintain an enhanced CAP. Raptors 2, 4 and 5 will begin to tow the disabled ships back to_ Galactica. _We're in a bad spot right now, the civilian ships will remained spooled up to jump in case any more Cylons show up, in the meantime...we're it, keep your eyes peeled." replied Lee.

**Central Command and Control – Cylon Basestar**

The Five model humanoid Cylon slowly slid his hands into the datastream aboard the lead Cylon Baseship. The datastream was composed of a stream of water, which is used as a transmission medium to access the central computer network. This humanoid model was once known to the human fleet as Aaron Doral, the public relations executive assigned to _Galactica's_ decommissioning and planned transformation into a space-faring school, and museum prior to the attack on the colonies. He had been monitoring the attack on Galactica, oblivious to each and every sentient raider that were destroyed by the viper pilots. His sole concern, the two heavy raiders that successfully positioned themselves within effective range of the target.

"It looks like at least one of our heavy raiders had a successful outcome." observed Cavil.

"Yes, but was it enough to completely disable _Galactica, _and her vipers?" asked Simon, the fourth model of humanoid Cylon. "My research into a _Galactica_-class Battlestar's defensive shielding specified _two_ EMP detonations for maximum incapacitation..."

"Yes, but the one raider detonated far closer than expected," interrupted Doral. "I know first hand what that antediluvian wreck is capable of withstanding."

"Yes Five," began Cavil. "However your stint on _Galactica_, as its public relations officer was long before the punishment we put it through since they escaped our justice. Still, I think the report transmitted by the last raider was very encouraging, I propose we let the attack begin." The four humanoid Cylons all nodded their agreement.

Raptors were in the process of towing disabled fighters back to the darkened landing bays of Galactica, a difficult operation under the best of circumstances. The disabled Battlestar was adrift on battery power only, repair crews working by portable lanterns. Commander Adama was making the rounds to various stations in the CIC, offering to assist his junior officers where he could. D'Anna and her cameraman capturing every moment.

"Mr. Gaeta, status on propulsion?" asked Adama.

"Engineering chief reports at least four hours to restart, he's going over safety checks before the cold start." reported Gaeta.

"Weapons and outside com systems?"

"Weapons still offline commander, we're using wireless to communicate intra-ship, and signal flashes to Raptor 7 who is acting as a relay for the fleet, and our vipers."

"Colonel Tigh, what are the odds of another Cylon attack?" asked D'Anna, now standing directly behind him. Tigh's irritability was bubbling over with the two outsiders from Fleet News.

"_Odds?_ This isn't a fraking _chancery_, young lady!" snapped Tigh. "This is an emergency situation that requires every man and woman aboard this ship to concentrate on their duties, free from the bothersome glare of you gods-damned media vultures."

"_Colonel!_" called out Adama, his tone formal. Tigh shot D'Anna a menacing glare and pushed past her, walking over to Adama who was back at the plotting table. Undeterred, D'Anna followed, Bell close on her heels continuing filming. Adama leaned in close to his XO, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "Let this felgercarb go, Saul. I need your full concentration _here_."

"Yes commander." replied Tigh.

"Do we have the status on recovery operations of our disabled birds?" Tigh took the portable radio that was in his back pocket and keyed the microphone.

"Gun turret four, XO."

"_Gun turret four, go ahead XO."_

"Signal the relay Raptor for the status of our damaged birds!" The gunnery captain quickly used his signal lamp to communicate with Raptor 7, his status request was quickly relayed to Apollo.

"Hephaestus, Apollo... how's your sector coming along?"

"_Raptor 5 has its tow cables hooked up to Wizard's viper now, still have two more to go, boss!"_ replied Lensherr over the comline.

**Raptor 1 – Two hours after EMP detonation**

Nina Nintius and Margaret Edmondson were cruising the outer security envelope of the fleet, Raptor 1 was tasked with long range dradis sweeps of the sector while Galactica was disabled. The civilian fleet had been brought into tighter formation, and kept their FTL drives spooled up in case an immediate jump was needed.

"What a way to go, eh Betty?" said Racetrack. "I mean that slit eyed bastard didn't even have the decency of a quick kill, he frakin rammed the poor bastard." She was talking about Mouthwash's grisly death.

"Like those bio-mechanical raiders have a brain or soul to even know what decency is! I mean seriously, Margaret, what the frak do you expect from the Cylons? Quicksand got herself caught in a pinwheel attack. Three raiders lit her up like a Colonial Day fireworks display." said Nina bitterly. "She had a grand total of maybe forty hours in the cockpit." The dradis console chirped loudly, something had just entered the quadrant. Racetrack identified the contacts immediately.

"_Two dradis contacts, bearing 878 carom 229, war book positively identifies as Cylon Basestars._" reported the ECO, her voice trembling.

"Frak the timing of it all, warn the fleet, Margaret." ordered Nina plotting an escape vector back to the fleet.

Every pilot had heard Raptor 1's warning, there was no doubt now that the EMP detonation had been the prelude to an all out attack. Raptor 7 had relayed the information to the dorsal side gunnery captain via signal flash, who in turn relayed it to the CIC via wireless.

**Combat Information Center**

"Well that confirms it, it was a trap!" said Tigh to Adama.

"Dee, status of our coms?"

"Coming online now, sir. Limited distance, but enough to warn the fleet."

"Set condition one throughout the fleet, instruct the fleet to jump to emergency coordinates!" ordered Adama. The ships main engines were still offline, as were the weapons systems. They would be sitting targets for the Cylon attack force now bearing down on them. One by one the civilian ships vanished, all that remained were two of the three armed civilian ships, neither a match for a Basestar, never mind two of them.

"Weapons?" Tigh shook his head, this would be a massacre.

"_Apollo to all wings, we are Galactica's only defense, her engines and weapons are still offline. Regroup into attack formation, all raptors hold back, you'll be the final line."_

The vipers still in service took up their positions, they were heavily outnumbered, and many had expended vast amounts of fuel and ammunition from the earlier attack. A wall of raiders were quickly bearing down on them, with two massive capital ships bringing up the rear.

"Apollo, Starbuck... I don't like the odds, never saw them this bad before."

"_We'll do what we can, Starbuck. We've got to give my father the time to get the ship back online."_

Matthew Lensherr had a total of seven vipers still in service under his command, he lost one to Cylon attack and two to the EMP detonation. Silver Spar squadron would be the tip of the defensive spear. The raiders were closing fast, and the remaining three viper squadrons were formed up to engage them.

"_All vipers... engage!" _The vipers opened fire on the incoming Raiders, the battle commenced. Matt had destroyed two raiders in the opening volley, but the odds were so badly stacked against them that it was difficult to find the slightest sliver of hope. They would all be dead this day.

**Combat Information Center**

"Dradis back online, commander." informed Gaeta. Adama glanced up at the dradis screen suspended just above the plotting table, the odds were atrociously against them even at full strength.

"What about the weapons grid?"

"Unable to bring online, sir. Engineering reports ready for cold start in thirty minutes."

"This gods-damned thing will be over in three minutes!" snarled Tigh watching the enemy attack force close the distance.

"Sir, the _Stryker_ has positioned itself between us and the Cylons."

"Admirable, but they don't stand a chance with their limited caliber weapons. _I need the weapons grid online!" _said Adama through gritted teeth. The vipers were starting to lose ground, they were far too outnumbered, and now the Baseship had started to fire their offensive weapons. The first round of missiles were intercepted by the _Stryker_, but they simply did not have the fire power to repel a sustained onslaught.

"Second wave of incoming ordnance," announced Gaeta. "twenty six missiles!" This was going to be devastating. _Stryker_ put up an amazing amount of defensive flak, but several missiles found their mark unchallenged. Galactica shuddered violently. "Direct hits on sections 126, 130 and 227." reported Gaeta.

"Apollo, Hephaestus... Galactica's takin a beating back there." Matt could see the Baseships flanking the disabled Battlestar, raining punishment down on her without mercy.

"_Hold your position, Heph. There's nothing we can do at this point, we need to keep the raiders off her until she can get her weapons, or FTL's back online." _responded Apollo.

"We're getting killed out here, Apollo!" yelled out Starbuck. She was right, they had lost twenty more vipers in the fight, held back raptors were now engaging the raiders that pushed their way through.

"_Apollo, Raptor 1... I'm down to my last four Spectra Six missiles, I'd like to send them gift wrapped to the Baseships." _Nina Nintius couldn't see a positive outcome to the battle, Galactica was taking a beating, and the remaining vipers were making little headway. Racetrack yelled out a new contact just entering the immediate area.

"Dradis contact bearing 108 carom 097, its launching raiders...one hundred sixty and counting."

"_Three Baseships?_ We're truly fraked!" groaned Nina.

"Wait...somethings not right here, the IFF's _aren't_ Cylon!" added Racetrack.

**Combat Information Center**

"_Repeat that, Mr. Gaeta!" _ordered a surprised Adama.

"Latest dradis contact is _not_ broadcasting enemy IFF, I'm reading Colonial recognition codes, commander." explained Gaeta, rechecking his finding.

"_Verify recognition codes immediately!" _Saul Tigh had sprinted to the tactical station to verify Gaeta's findings. Everything that flashed across the terminal screen was impossible, yet there it was...Colonial transponders. The latest volley of missile strikes struck the topside of the ship hard, throwing Tigh, and several others to the deck. Bell's camera had been focused on the executive officer, his skill and professionalism kept the subject always in screen. He could clearly see Tigh's ashen face as he spoke.

"_Bill...it's the Pegasus!_


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

"Commander, I'm counting at least seven full squadrons of vipers!" announced Gaeta. The dradis screen displayed a large number of green icons identified as Colonial vipers.

"Consistent with a _Mercury_-class Battlestar." said Adama looking at Tigh. Another volley of missiles battered _Galactica._ The damage control station looked as if it would go into overdrive and explode.

"Commander Adama, there's another Battlestar out there?" asked D'Anna. If Adama heard her, he gave no reply, his crippled ship was on the verge of destruction. His viper squadrons barely even slowing down the onslaught, and the lone armed civilian ship was increasingly coming under attack by the Cylon raiders. The _Striker_ would not last much longer.

**Combat Information Center – Battlestar _Pegasus_**

"Admiral Cain, this isn't a Cylon attack force we've been trailing, dradis indicates two Basestars only... the rest are broadcasting Colonial transponders."

"Colonel Fisk, get Stinger on the line, I want an immediate sitrep on what we have out there." ordered Cain. Rear Admiral Helena Cain, Tauron by birth, was the commanding officer of the Battlestar _Pegasus_, a Mercury-class Battlestar that like _Galactica_, survived the attack on the Colonies thanks to a non-networked Command Navigation program aboard ship. The ship she commanded was a heavily armor-plated behemoth, and at the time of the Cylon attack, she contained an air wing of two hundred Mk. VII Vipers and fifty Raptors. Almost 180 of her vipers were now entering the battle.

"Admiral, the CAG reports a large Cylon attack force, and..." the executive officer pressed his headphone closer to his ear as if it would make the transmission more clear.

"_And what, Colonel?_" demanded Cain.

"Sir, Stinger reports the Cylon attack force is currently engaged in battle with Colonial vipers. Two larger contacts bearing Colonial transponders also under attack." At that moment, the communications officer, Lieutenant Louis Hoshi spoke up.

"Admiral, we're receiving hostile challenge from a ship identifying itself as the Battlestar _Galactica_."

"Galactica?" _Impossible_." exclaimed Cain.

"Begging the Admiral's pardon," began Fisk. "Stinger has made visual contact with what appears to be a _Jupiter_-class Battlestar. If I'm not mistaken, the _Galactica_ was one of two Battlestars remaining in service from that particular class, prior to the attack on the Colonies. And... he reports she's under heavy enemy attack, not returning fire... completely defensive."

"Colonel Fisk, order our squadrons to engage the Cylons immediately! We'll sort the rest out after." ordered Cain. "Ensign Thornton, distance to Cylon Baseships?"

"Baseships are skirting their fighter wings, sir. The lead Baseship has taken a stationary position high on _Galactica's_ port bow, roughly 2000 meters, with the second one bearing down on a _Celestra_-class vessel."

"Helm, prepare an immediate jump to effective firing range of the attacking Baseships, put us right between the two of them!" ordered Cain.

**Raptor 1 **

"_Identification confirmed_," shouted out Racetrack. "incoming signals are Colonial vipers of the MK. VII variety."

"Where the hell did they come from?" asked Nina. The fresh vipers came in hard and fast on the raiders from behind. The surprised raiders quickly engaged them. Even with the additional vipers, _Galactica's_ air wing was still heavily outnumbered, but the tide quickly turned in their favor. A single Colonial viper was easily a match for any two or three Cylon Raiders in combat. 180 fully armed and fueled advanced vipers quickly became a game changer.

Silver Spar squadron had lost two more vipers, squadron leader Matthew Lensherr's computer soon alerted him he had reached his last 100 rounds of 30mm ammunition. He toggled his transmitter button. "_Nightstalker, Hephaestus...I'm down to my last 100, be prepared to assume command of the squadron as I return for a reload, over_."

"Reload?" repeated Mark Sarnex. "Matt, I'm not sure the Bucket will even still be there for you to land, much less rearm you." said Sarnex grimly. The voice of Racetrack quickly cut in on the conversation between squadron leader and his assistant squadron leader.

"_Raptor 1 to all squadrons, be advised... incoming signals are Colonial Vipers...repeat incoming signals are Colonial Vipers, your targeting computers should have them properly identified by now. Looks like the Calvary has arrived!_" shouted Racetrack.

"Raptor 1, Apollo... repeat your last!" said Lee, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"_Apollo, Raptor 1. Incoming fighters are Colonial friendlies... repeat, Colonial friendlies...do not fire upon them! _This was a miracle, _Galactica's_ air wing was running on empty and lost air superiority almost immediately into the surprise attack, they were hanging on by their fingernails. These unknown vipers had just saved them from certain defeat and destruction at the hands of the vastly superior raider force. Lee immediately ordered anyone with enough ammunition and fuel to reverse course back to _Galactica_ to offer what help they could. He was well within visual range of his father's ship when the skies in front of him lit up like a supernova. A massive Battlestar appeared out of a Faster Than Light jump, it was almost twice as large as Galactica, along the front of the side of the port flight pod was the ship's designation; PEGASUS.

"_Galactica, Apollo...are you seeing this?_

**_Galactica_ CIC**

"Colonial Battlestar has just materialized off the starboard bow!" called out Gaeta. "Positive IFF identification... the _Pegasus!_"

"By the Lords of Kobol, where did _she_ come from?" asked Tigh. _Pegasus_ was over 1,100 feet longer than the _Galactica, _and more heavily armed. The last battlestar built of the _Mercury_ class, and Flagship of Battlestar Group 62.

**_Pegasus_ CIC**

"Helm, ninety degrees starboard. Bring all weapons to bear on the closest Basestar!" ordered Rear Admiral Cain. The massive Colonial warship pivoted on maneuvering thrusters with a speed that betrayed its size, the entire length of the ship was now between the crippled _Galactica_ and the incoming Baseship. "Colonel Fisk, launch the reserve squadrons to cover that civilian vessel while we bring stern missile batteries to bear on their attacking Baseships."

"At once, Admiral!" replied the executive officer. Pegasus at full strength, fielded 10 full squadrons, two of them were reserve squadrons. Gold and Silver squadrons launched from their tubes and and immediately engaged the raiders swarming over the beleaguered _Striker_. Lieutenant Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach, a former Libran Police officer, led Gold squadron into the fray.

"_Peacemaker to all wings, warbook identifies civilian ship as the Striker, a civilian electronics ship out of Caprica. Obviously she's been retrofitted with limited point defense turrets, and small gun batteries, looks like she's taking a beating, let's get in there!" _His Mk. VII viper which he christened _Punisher _let loose a blistering salvo of 30mm rounds into the nearest enemy fighter. The Cylon fighter split apart violently, and Peacemaker's viper expertly evaded the debris field. A little over thirty of the reserve vipers plunged deep into the heart of the raider forces that broke through _Galactica's_ defenders. The raiders were getting blown out of the stars when the _Pegasus_ opened up with her main batteries. The distance between opposing warships were filled with cannon-fire and missiles passing each other, unlike the heavily-shielded Battlestars specifically designed to withstand massive punishment, the unarmored Cylon Basestar soon found itself suffering lethal damage.

**_Galactica_ CIC**

"Commander, the lead Cylon Baseship is retreating, it's suffered massive damage from _Pegasus'_ bombardment." informed Gaeta. "Fresh vipers are engaging the raiders attacking the _Striker_."

"Colonel Tigh, status of the main engines?" inquired Adama.

"Engineering chief reports ready for cold start in six minutes."

"Weapons grid?"

"Still offline, sir."

"Vipers coming in on both decks, commander." reported Dualla. Galactica was functioning under battery power, most of the refueling and rearming would be done under dangerous conditions, far slower than if the ship was at full power.

"Dee, give me ship to ship, Colonial priority one channel." ordered Adama gesturing to his handset. After a pause of fifteen seconds, the connection was made.

"You're on the line, commander."

"Pegasus, this is Galactica actual."

"_Galactica Actual, this is Pegasus Actual... Adama is that you?"_

"Admiral Cain, it's a pleasure to hear your voice. Be advised, _Galactica's_ weapons grid and propulsion is offline due to an EMP close range detonation. Systems slowly being restored, attempting cold engine start in five... over."

"_Commander Adama, this is an absolute miracle," began Cain. "I don't have the words, but let me recommend we put aside the pleasantries and get control of the situation. Your civilian ship is no match for the Cylons, may I suggest you order it to pull back while we deal with the Basestars?"_

"I agree, Admiral. I don't have the words, either. We will instruct the _Striker_ to withdraw beyond _Galactica, _also... I have a fuel-starved air wing inbound, request permission to land some of them aboard _Pegasus_ until our own landing bays are back to full power?"

"_Of course, commander, I insist." _Rear Admiral Helena Cain instructed her landing bay crews to prepare for incoming vipers from _Galactica_. The men and women standing at their posts in the Combat Information Center worked with almost lightning speed and absolute efficiency, something that was not only expected under Cain, but demanded of.

"Weapons, focus gun batteries six through sixteen on the second Basestar, I want that center axis taken out." ordered Cain. "Helm, keep us firmly planted between them and _Galactica_, I want the old girl fully protected. How in the name of the gods that antique survived the attacks is a story I look forward to hearing." said a bemused Cain.

The main bulk of Cylon raiders were now almost completely engaged by vipers from the _Pegasus,_ as _Galactica's_ vipers were forced to withdraw from battle due to lack of fuel and ammunition. The Mk. VII's, far superior to the MK. II's that made up the bulk of _Galactica's_ air wing, were leaving a bloody destructive swath in their wake. The com chatter between Pegasus pilots were extremely light, but one of the few transmissions caught Matt Lensherr's ear.

"_Destiny, Stinger... two bandits on your six, coming in low and fast."_

"Stinger, Destiny... I'm bringing them around, should be viable in ten!" The voice was female, and unmistakable. It was Kara Fan.

"_Destiny, Hephaestus... is that you?"_

"_Hephaestus...Matt?" _called out Kara. Her viper surfed the in and out of the floating debris that littered the battlefield, two raiders hot on her tail. She increased her speed and rolled low, the trap had been sprung. Both raiders were destroyed as they passed a seemingly disabled and drifting viper piloted by _Pegasus'_ CAG, Captain Cole "Stinger" Taylor.

"_Destiny, Stinger...good work, both bandits splashed. Hephaestus... you will maintain wireless silence until you land aboard Pegasus, over."_

Matt cursed himself for the break in combat protocol. His call out to Kara could have distracted her during the set up to destroy her pursuers. He would remain silent until safely aboard _Pegasus_. He pointed the nose of his viper towards the massive two-stacked landing bays. Unlike Galactica, the Battlestar before him was outfitted with computer-assisted landing system for a faster viper recovery rate, something William Adama ruled absolutely forbidden on his ship. The Landing Signals Officer soon realized that the much older Mk. II's weren't equipped for auto landings, and watched with fascination as each viper touched down under full manual control.

Matt looked out the canopy of his viper as it was brought down from the landing bay into the hanger deck via the elevator platform. Orange clad deck crews quickly move the retrieved viper off the platform and directly into an open berth to refuel and reload the weapons. A wheeled staircase was placed up against the fuselage, and Matt dismounted his scorched and battered viper. A large gathering of deck crew, and other crewmen attired in duty uniforms surrounded their vipers. A man identified clearly as a chief petty officer approached Apollo. "Welcome aboard the _Pegasus_, Captain. I'm Chief Petty Officer Laird, you have no idea how happy we all are to come across you, sir."

"The pleasure is mine, Chief. You can't know how relieved we were to see you, we were getting our asses kicked out there by the toasters."

"Sir, your vipers have been instructed to land on _Pegasus_ until _Galactica_ completes her repairs, until then, consider yourselves guests of Admiral Cain."

**_Pegasus_ – CIC**

"Admiral, Cylon Basestars are withdrawing, their raiders have also disengaged and are running for it." informed the executive officer. "Stinger requests permission to pursue and destroy." Cain ran her long fingers through her straight black hair, her face revealing serious contemplation of the request."

"No Colonel, not this time! Let the bastards run, we'll track them down again." said Cain. Jack Fisk raised his eyebrow in surprise, then quickly regained his composure before Cain saw him. Questioning Cain's orders were not a smart idea aboard this ship. The air wing would be disappointed, very seldom, if ever, did Cain ever allow the enemy to escape. But he knew this was an extreme circumstance, never did they suspect another Battlestar survived. "What's the count for _Galactica's_ air wing?"

"Roughly forty in all, curiously the majority are all old Mk. II's." replied Fisk surprised.

"_Amazing_, forty archaic vipers actually stood their ground against such an overwhelming superior force, both numerically and technologically." exclaimed Cain. "There's obviously more to William Adama than his record reveals."

**Battlestar _Pegasus_ Pilot's lounge – 1 hour after discovery**

_Galactica's_ pilots were treated like celebrities, there were reunions amongst old friends, academy mates, and viper school graduates. Matthew Lensherr was having his own reunion, he embraced Kara "Destiny" Fan tightly, tears of joy streamed down her cheeks, as Matt struggled to contain his own. Dave "Roadkill" Wright couldn't contain his own excitement. "My gods Kara, I never thought I'd see you again."

"Same here, Dave. I knew you had been assigned to _Galactica_, and just assumed you were dead along with the rest of the colonies. I knew the _Triton_ was lost high above _Caprica_, how did you ever end up on _Galactica_, Matt?"

"Tis a long tale, lass." began Matt. The call to attention on deck brought the room to a complete stand still. Two well armed marines preceded a tall female officer with straight black hair and Admiral insignia affixed to her uniform. The legendary Helena Cain entered the room.

"Please, stand at ease, all of you." said a smiling Cain loudly. "You have all secured for yourselves, a place in the history scrolls. Forty odd vipers and raptors stood their ground against an overwhelming enemy force and gave them hell. Words cannot describe the pride I feel in you all, the odds you have overcome to survive to this point. Welcome aboard _Pegasus_, and more importantly..._welcome back to Colonial Fleet!" _A loud cheer erupted throughout the pilot's lounge. "Where is Captain Adama?" shouted Cain over the din.

"Here sir!" shouted Lee forcing his way forward through the crowd."

"Call sign is Apollo. With the last name Adama I can assume you're the son of Zeus?"

"My father _is_ Commander Adama." said a smiling Lee. "On behalf of the officers of _Galactica_ and her air wing, I'd like to thank you for the rescue."

"You're welcome Captain. I look forward to meeting your father, I've never had the pleasure. I've been informed that _Galactica_ has initiated a cold restart and is almost at full power, we're going to jump to where your civilian fleet is on station, and then I'll be heading over to _Galactica, _where your father was kind enough to invite me aboard for a tour and sitrep. My Raptor departs in two hours, and I would appreciate your vipers giving me an escort, your landing bay is back in service."

"It would be our honor, sir." said Lee coming to attention. Cain departed, and he soon returned to the gathering of pilots.

"Matt, I want you to meet someone." called out Destiny. She had a _Pegasus_ pilot in tow, a lieutenant. "Matthew Lensherr, I'd like you to meet Lieutenant Jon Horlach, call sign Peacemaker." The two men shook hands, after an hour of meeting members of the _Pegasus_ air wing, Matt got the distinct impression this was someone of a completely different caliber. Many of the men and women he had been meeting had an air of self-righteousness, and arrogance, traits common in viper pilots, but he had never seen it to the degree that these pilots displayed it. Had they been pilots aboard _Galactica_, they would have been knocked down a peg or three long ago. The man before him exuded none of those traits. This was a man that Matt immediately knew he could trust, and just as importantly, a man he could call friend.

"Horlach?" asked Matt as if the name was very familiar.

"Correct, my father was yours, and Destiny's flight instructor at viper school. It's a pleasure to meet you Hephaestus, Kara has told me quite a few stories about you and your flying."

"Don't believe everything ya hear, she never got over comin in second place." cracked Matt. "Tell me Jon, how did a Libran Police officer end up as a viper pilot aboard a Colonial Battlestar?"

"I flew out to the _Valkyrie,_ to pick up an older model military Raptor that Picon Fleet Headquarters was giving to my department's air wing. Many of the older models were being sold off, or reassigned to law enforcement agencies. I drew what turned out to be a life-saving detail." Horlach took a long pull of coffee from a battered ceramic mug and continued. "I had jumped back to Libra as the attack was underway. I could see at least a dozen nuclear detonations from upper orbit, one of them smack frakin dab in the middle of _Themis_, my destination with the new Raptor. My friends and brother law enforcement officers... all vaporized."

"How did you get outta there?" asked Matt.

"My dradis picked up numerous descending contacts from orbit to the surface so I dropped down to take a closer look. A type of spacecraft I've never seen before were depositing Cylon Centurions onto the surface in great numbers. I was apparently spotted, and had two smaller fighters head in my direction. I decided to race for the clouds and make a jump outta there post frakin haste. I made it to a refueling station on the far side of old Imperial Virgon, it was automated and yet to be discovered by the Cylons. I refueled and jumped to _Picon_, then _Caprica_, then _Scorpia, _all destroyed_. _I didn't know what I was going to do, I had limited rations and nowhere to go. Looks like Athena was watching over me, because after a week of cruising, I met up with _Pegasus_. If not for these people I'd be long dead."

The _Pegasus_ was far more modern than _Galactica, _Matt was amazed at the sheer size of the ship. Nowhere were there dented steel hatches to be found, most compartments were entered through sliding stainless steel sliding doors. There was even a small-scale Viper production facility in the port flight pod. Everything looked new and clean. One thing that caught Matt's attention was that every single crew member, both enlisted and commissioned were armed at all times when on duty. Aboard _Galactica_, only security details and Colonial Marines went armed aboard ship. Both Battlestars and the _Striker_ had rejoined the civilian fleet at the emergency jump coordinates. Admiral Cain's Raptor slowly lifted off the deck and was making its way towards _Galactica_, the elder Battlestar's much smaller air wing flying escort.

**Port Hanger Bay – Battlestar _Galactica_**

Chief Tyrol's hanger bay was jammed to capacity, anyone not in a critical job aboard the Battlestar was present for this momentous occasion. The Landing Signals Officer, or LSO soon announced the arrival of Admiral Cain's Raptor high above them on the flight deck. The massive magnetic lift roared to live as it started to descend. Colonel Tigh's voice boomed across the massive hanger, calling all present to the position of attention.

A pristine looking Colonial Raptor descended from the upper decks, it was in far better condition than any Raptor aboard _Galactica_, something that had made Tyrol smile broadly. The hatch slowly opened, and two fully armed Colonial Marines exited and took up position on the deck. Adama had nodded to a nearby specialist who rapped a silver bell several times, announcing loudly "_Admiral arriving!"_

Rear Admiral Helena Cain slowly stepped out of the Raptor's cabin, ducking slightly in order not to hit her head on the hatch. She slowly brought herself up to her full height of five foot, ten inches. Her long, brown hair worn straight past her shoulders, and like every other member of the Admiral's landing party, she was armed.

"Admiral Cain, welcome aboard the _Galactica!_" announced Adama snapping out a stiff salute. Cain came to attention and returned the salute, smiling, she extended her hand which Adama grasped strongly.

"Commander Adama... It's an honor." she replied. The two Battlestar commanding officers had never before met in person, but each were aware of each other's command history and personal reputations. Introductions had been made between Cain and the president and vice president. The two executive officers obviously knew each well, and merely nodded with a barely noticeable smile. The large gathering were soon released from the position of attention, and a loud cheer erupted as the landing party mingled with Galactica's crew, being treated like celebrities, much like Pegasus had treated Galactica's air wing when forced to land aboard the long-thought destroyed Battlestar. For a brief moment, it felt that Colonial Fleet had indeed been reunited.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46.

The Pilot's rec room aboard _Galactica_ was jammed to capacity with viper and raptor pilots from both Battlestars, some had known each other, many were fresh faces. Matt sat back with Roadkill and Destiny, exchanging old memories. Out of the corner of his eye he could see D'Anna and her camera man making their way through the crowd, asking questions and filming _Pegasus_ pilots, many with very surprised looks on their faces.

"So Matt, rumor mill has it that you and that Fleet News babe are an item." said Kara sipping at her drink. Matt shot Dave "Roadkill" Wright a nasty look before replying.

"Rumor mill, eh? Sounds like one of me own pilots been running his mouth a wee too much, lass." Roadkill put his arms up in a gesture of mock surrender.

"Hey Heph, you know how it is on a Battlestar... the bulkheads talk." laughed Roadkill.

"She's a head-turner to be sure, Heph. I'm surprised an ass-backward farmer like yourself was able to hook up with the famous D'Anna Biers, her reputation was one of quite the blood-sucker, before the fall of the Colonies. What the frak is she even doing on _Galactica?_ Cain would never even speak to a reporter, much less let one on a warship under her command."

"Well the fleet is very media-friendly, the President isn't one much for secrecy. She and Adama invited her aboard, to give the fleet a better picture of the fleet's protectors after the Gideon incident."

"Not sure what this "Gideon incident" is, but I'm not sure I'm following you, what do you care what a bunch of civies think?" asked Kara in all seriousness. That had sent a flag up in Matt's head. Kara was always self-assured and highly confident, but this bordered on something else, something he also sensed from the other Pegasus personnel he had encountered. Matt relayed the incident between the Colonial Marine boarding party and the crew aboard the Gideon when Colonel Tigh was in charge. Kara looked nonplussed.

"Sounds like your Gorillas did their job, although I would question why they allowed those frakers to get as far as they did."

"Those _'_frakers' were _civilians_, Kara!" chimed in Roadkill.

"Well those _civilians_ not shot dead by Marines would have been air-locked post frakin haste if Cain were in charge. Mutiny is dealt with permanently aboard the Beast." replied Kara using the nickname for Pegasus. Galactica was referred to as _the bucket._

"I wouldn't call it mutiny." shot back Matt.

"What kinda ship does Adama run, here? You guys seem kinda laid back for a front line ship." asked Kara sharply. "Maybe it's a good thing we found you guys, get you all back up to Colonial Fleet standards."

"Front line ship? Lass, prior to your arrival we were the last frakin Battlestar in existence, tasked with protectin the last human beings left in the galaxy. Fifty thousand men, women and children look to us to keep em safe. They aren't military!" said Matt angrily.

"Peace Heph!" said Kara softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. Obviously Cain and Adama have two completely different leadership skills. I'm sure you guys will adjust in time."

"Adjust?" asked Matt. "Adjust to _what?_"

"Cain!" replied Kara, as if the two men before her should have immediately known the answer. "She's now the senior military officer in this... fleet. I'm sure you know that Adama will have to step aside as top military commander." Matt and Roadkill exchanged very unpleasant glances with each other.

Later that evening, as Matt was pulling off his flight suit, D'Anna walked through the hatch, he hadn't expected to see her with all of the excitement throughout the ship. This was the biggest story since the attack on the Colonies, yet here she was, and not as a reporter.

"I thought I'd find you in the pilot's lounge with the other hotshots from _Pegasus._"

Matt laughed. "Not that I'm unhappy to have em, but I've had me fair share of ego and glory for one day." D'Anna slowly walked around to the back of Matt's bare shoulders and started to knead the muscles. "Ah lass, that feels grand."

"So this is a great day for the fleet, eh? The _Pegasus_ is a blessing from the gods, the fleet's safety is assured."

"_This_ ship has kept the fleet safe since the Cylons tried to exterminate us, D'Anna. The men and women who've given blood and life might disagree with your sentiments, lass."

"Matthew... you know I mean no disrespect." said D'Anna softly. Changing the subject she gently ran her fingers through his hair and spoke. "Commander Adama has assured me that he will talk to Admiral Cain about an exclusive interview."

"I wouldn'a hold me breath on _that_ one comin through. From the sounds of it, Cain has no use for media, or civilians." replied Matt.

"Oh I've got charms that work on women, just as well as men." purred D'Anna as she licked the back of Matt's ear.

"I'm getting a very odd feeling about Cain, watch yourself with her."

**Senior Pilot's Quarters – Battlestar _Galactica_**

"So what do you think Kara?" asked Lee Adama. Starbuck had her boots up on the stainless steel table in the center of the stateroom. She had just inhaled deeply on the long, thin fumarello that dangled off her pouty lips. She blew the smoke out of her nostrils and leaned back to stretch.

"If you're asking me if I'm overjoyed to have another battlestar in the fleet, and a full compliment of new Mk. VII vipers, than my answer is _fraking ecstatic!_" replied Starbuck. "However... I'm not so sure about Stinger, he seems to have a real pole shoved up his ass, that one."

"How do you mean?"

"Can't put my finger on it, very detached and cold. The aura of arrogance that's radiating from him could power half the fleet."

"I hear you, they do all act as if they're a gift from the Gods. From what I hear, the viper production facility aboard Pegasus had replaced almost all of the vipers she lost at Scorpion Fleet Shipyards. The problem was that they had nowhere near enough pilots to fly all of them." said Lee.

"Are we getting any?" asked Kara starting to perk up. "What did the old man tell you?" Lee frowned, he wondered why he was even surprised that Starbuck knew who is source was.

"My father told me that Cain had ordered a complete replenishing of Galactica's stores. Uniforms, small arms ammunition, viper and raptor parts that Tyrol would kill for... all resupply raptors have already filed flight plans and should be arriving anytime now."

"I know they were in dry dock undergoing repairs, but where the frak did they get all of the surplus gear to spare?" asked Kara.

"Gods only know, and to be honest... who the frak cares! This ship has been running on spit and bailing wire for too long now. Replied Lee. Kara broke out a deck of cards and the two played a game of pyramid for the remainder of the night.

A week had passed since Pegasus had joined the fleet. Morale aboard both Battlestars were at an all time high, as were the civilian ships of the fleet. Pegasus was a far more modern Battlestar than Galactica, and much larger, she bristled with large and small diameter cannons, and most importantly contained a full nuclear arsenal. Forty Mk. VII vipers had been transferred to Galactica's air wing, and repairs to antiquated Mk. II's and Raptors went much easier now that the maintenance crews had correct parts to replace those that had been cobbled together. Pegasus Deck Chief Peter Laird and Chief Tyrol spend many hours together going through Galactica's well-worn air wing to determine which Mk. II's are worth salvaging. In the end, six Mk. II's are retired from active service, Laird balancing his admiration with disbelief, that such vipers were still air worthy, much less combat worthy after all these months of fighting the Cylons.

"I have to admit Chief, I am shocked that these old vipers held out so long." confided Laird running his palm reverently down the nose of a viper pulled out of service. "They're antiques going against state of the art Raiders."

"Don't let these beauties fool you Pete, They may not have the agility, bells and whistles that a Mk. VII has, but in the hands of a skilled viper pilot, I'd put any one of these up against a Mk. VII any day." said Tyrol smiling broadly. "My professional opinion is that a skilled viper pilot in a Mk. II can hold his of her own against six or eight raiders in combat. Fraking raiders are bio-mechanical, no pilots at all."

"Pegasus had plenty of vipers and raptors, but were short on pilots when the attack came. Much of the crew were away on liberty from what I hear." said Laird.

"From what you heard?" asked Tyrol confused. "How long were you deck chief?"

Peter Laird looked uncomfortable at that moment. He was a quiet man, carrying a very heavy sorrow within him, but he sensed something in Galen Tyrol that he found disarming, so he opened up. "If you haven't already figured it out, I'm not 'Colonial Fleet issued.' By profession, I was a civilian aeronautical engineer on _Picon_."

"How did you end up on the _Pegasus?_"

"I was on the _Scylla, _an old civilian transport ship, and we got picked up by the Pegasus a week after the Cylon attack." replied Laird before adding softly "_Things happen._" He walked over to the stall containing the Blackbird, and immediately walked around to the rear of the ship. "DDG-62's. I'll be!" he exclaimed with a smile. "I designed these engines. I thought they phased them out over ten years ago."

"You actually designed _these_ engines?" asked a stunned Tyrol. "The fleet has one, maybe two aeronautical engineers, and I'm not entirely certain they were even current in their field at the time of the attacks. It would be a tremendous opportunity if we could get you to teach a class to my deck gang in the off duty hours, maybe even open it up to the civilians in the fleet." said Tyrol.

"I'd be honored to Chief, of course that would be up to Admiral Cain."

"Something to keep in mind, then? I'll run the idea by Commander Adama." Tyrol walked the visiting deck chief through every part of the stealth ship, he was amazed at how easily Laird grasped his modifications, and delighted at his suggestions for further modifications.

**Admiral Cain's Quarters – Battlestar _Pegasus_**

A long, highly polished, stainless steel table sat in the corner of the room, a white table cloth spread out upon it. Fine China hand-crafted on _Tauron _was set out in three places. A bottle of Scorpion Marsh Genuine ambrosia sat chilled in a intricately-carved ice bucket. A male specialist attired in white gloves and immaculate uniform stood to the side with three glasses. Cain merely nodded. The specialist placed the crystal wine glasses to the left of each diner and proceeded to open the bottle of vintage ambrosia. The popping of the cork filled the room, and he immediately poured a small amount into the President's glass, then Commander Adama's, and finally Cain's. Laura Roslin picked up the beautiful, long-stemmed wine glass and breathed deeply in the fragrance of the green liquid.

"My gods... _Scorpion Marsh Genuine,_ wherever did you come across such a rare bottle of ambrosia?" asked Laura taking a sip. The specialist waited until making eye contact with the President, she smiled and held out her glass which he promptly filled.

"Madam President, I have seven such bottles, two of which I would be honored if you and Commander Adama would accept on behalf of the officers and crew of the _Pegasus_." said Cain smiling. Laura Roslin was intrigued by the woman before her, obviously a powerful woman, not just in the physical sense which was obvious, but intellectually. She climbed the ranks of Colonial Fleet in record time, and not in the way some female officers of lesser morals chose to do. On the evening that Adama transferred command of the fleet to Cain, she could not sleep at all. She feared that the working relationship between military and civilian that she worked so hard to establish would come to a screeching halt, that she would have to start over again with this smart, tough new officer. So far, there had been no significant change. Galactica was being resupplied directly from Pegasus, but supplies had not begun to flow to the civilian fleet, which she hoped to address after dinner.

"Thank you admiral, your generosity is warmly accepted with the gratitude of my office. That bottle will remain unopened until the fleet reaches its final destination, then I will gladly pop that cork, and have a drink." replied Laura.

Helena Cain smiled at the comment, she was watching Adama's every expression or reaction throughout the exchange. She had never met William Adama before last week, but knew almost everything about his military career. Some which interested her greatly. "Earth," she said flatly, "is nothing but a myth, do you really believe the tall tales of the gods and their scribes?"

"As a matter of fact I do admiral, very much." replied Laura. "I have great faith in the scriptures, and since our escape from near extinction, that faith has successfully guided us along the way. First to _Kobol_, which allowed us to glimpse the astral map that contains the home of the thirteenth tribe, and now I believe, it led us to you."

"I thought it was _we_ who found _you?_" replied Cain with a smile. She turned to Adama who had remained quiet throughout the exchange. "You've kept quiet Bill, tell me...what are _your_ thoughts on Earth?"

"I have to be honest admiral, when we first got the fleet together and realized we had to leave the colonies forever, I feared the realization of life on the run with no place to go, would quickly erode confidence and morale among the fleet. I decided to give the survivors a chance, to dare to hope for a future, to hold onto, and strive for something worth living for. _Earth_ would be our new home. I didn't believe in its existence, but to be honest... after _Kobol_, I have no doubts that she's out there, waiting for us."

"You never once thought about returning to our homes, to kick those fraking Cylons off our worlds?" asked Cain, studying his expressions.

"No sir!" replied Adama bluntly. "The colonies are a radioactive wasteland, whatever survivors are still there are either long dead, or close to it by now due to radioactive illness. A lone Battlestar couldn't approach the colonies, much less reclaim it by force. The Cylons maintain a presence on _Caprica_, that much we have confirmed. At least a dozen Basestars patrol the inner colonies, with probably the same amount patrolling the outer ones. Finding a home for the survivors has been, and must remain our single biggest priority, the future of the human race depends on it."

"Very interesting perspective, commander. We must discuss this again." replied Cain. The main course had arrived, and the three ate their dinner while exchanging stories on their travels since escaping the colonies. The evening extended well into the early morning, and Laura Roslin was fascinated by Cain's accounting of how she eluded the original Cylon attack at Scorpion Fleet shipyards.

"A blind jump... that is absolutely amazing, admiral. You could have ended up anywhere, even within a sun!"

"No real choice in the matter, it was either jump or be incinerated by an incoming nuke. We had already taken one hit, and I doubt we would have survived the second. Six ships were taken out, two of them Battlestars, I was not adding to the body count!"

"And you've been running ever since?" Cain had thrown back her head and laughed heartily at the president's comment.

"Forgive me Laura, but this ship doesn't run. We've been taking the fight _to_ the Cylons, hitting them where we could. We've hit ammo dumps and fueling stations... hit and jump tactics. Now with two fully armed battlestars, I think the Cylons may soon be shitting their pants, or frying their circuit boards would probably be more accurate." laughed Cain. This time the laugh didn't sound jovial, it sounded more sinister. Cain's casual use of the president's first name went unnoticed by the president herself, but not Adama. The hair on the back of his neck bristled. He had called the president by her first name many times, but only after a long relationship of understanding and mutual respect had developed. Cain had only met her a week earlier, and Laura had yet to tell Cain to feel free to be informal when in private settings. The casual civilian wouldn't pick up on such a thing, but a trained military officer could not help but pick up on such a breach of etiquette.

**Combat Air Patrol**

At Commander Adama's suggestion, the CAP was being flown by one viper each from both Battlestars. Today the patrol was being flown by Matthew Lensherr and Jon Horlach. The two vipers flew within a half dozen meters between wingtips, sailing through the starlit void. Matt was the first to speak over private comline used for the CAP.

"_Peacemaker, what's it been like flying for Cain? Has she really been taking it to the Cylons using gorilla tactics or are the stories a little embellished?"_ In his own viper, Jon Horlach started typing away at the small keyboard in front of him, the voice activated microphone clicked to life with the sound of his voice.

"All true Hephaestus," began Horlach. Matt looked down at his monitor when the incoming wireless message sounded. "The tin cans don't even know what hits them until it's far too late." Matt had heard Peacemaker's oral response, but was intrigued by the private message he sent through the computer. It flashed in big bold letters, "BEWARE EVERY TRANSMISSION. CAIN HAS EARS EVERYWHERE!"

"_Amazing that you had been able to survive this long without outside support. Your one ship had to do all the jobs of the agro ship, waste-recycling ship, refinery and mining...how did ya do it all?"_

"Admiral Cain runs an extremely tight and efficient ship. If not for her I doubt any of us would have made it. You know, my father once mentioned you." said Horlach trying to change the subject away from his commanding officer. "When I was on Libra recovering from gunshot wounds."

"_Hell, I remember that! It was almost winter on Picon, I was about ready to take off with your father when our take off was aborted by a Marine officer delivering the news of your shooting in person."_

"Yeah, was laid up quite a while after that incident. My folks were a real pillar of strength for me. The old man used to come out on the weekends when I had rehab. He mentioned this _ballsy dairy farmer with foul Aerilonian accent _that was one of the best pilots he had trained in years. You'd never know it, but he liked you, said you would go far."

"_Timezone was a good man, I learned a lot from him."_ said Matt. The talk was soon interrupted by the dradis announcing a contact. "_Dradis contact bearing 662 carom 470, correction... I'm picking up three contacts."_

"Let's roll in from their six, they're maintaining course so they may not have picked us up yet." suggested Horlach. "Pegasus, Peacemaker...three bogeys bearing 662 carom 470 on direct course away from the fleet, vectoring intercept from six o'clock." reported Horlach over the com channel."

**Combat Information Center – _Pegasus_**

"Set condition one throughout the ship and get Commander Adama on the line, Mister Hoshi!" ordered Cain after hearing Peacemaker's report. Junior Lieutenant Louis Hoshi was the communications officer aboard _Pegasus_, and quickly contacted _Galactica_.

"Commander Adama coming on the line, Admiral. I'll patch it down to your headset."

"_Adama." _came the voice of Galactica's commanding officer over Cain's headset receiver.

"Commander, the CAP has picked up three bogeys moving away from the far side of the fleet, They've been instructed to pursue and identify."

"_Understood, I have alert fighters on standby, admiral."_

"Stand ready commander, if these are Cylons, I want to know what they're doing out here and where their Baseships are."

The two vipers were gaining on their targets with strict orders to only identify at this time. "Hephaestus, Peacemaker...war book identifies as a Cylon Heavy Raider with two Raider escorts, over."

"_I concur Peace, they're maintaining course and speed, doesn't look as if they spotted us_." replied Lensherr. "_We won't stay undetected for too long though, if the admiral wants to know where these guys are goin, we need ta get the Blackbird out here RFN."_

**Combat Information Center – Battlestar _Galactica_**

"Commander, Hephaestus is requesting immediate Blackbird response to their location." informed Dualla from her communications station.

"Alright Dee, instruct the CAP to fall back a bit further, we don't want to spook the raiders. Call down to the LSO, have him pull Starbuck out of her viper and get her into the Blackbird immediately." ordered Adama. "Also, send a message to Admiral Cain regarding the Blackbird launch."

Lieutenant Kara Thrace was sitting in the sealed cockpit of her viper when she noticed the massive steel doors of the launch tube slowly lower, her control panel indicated the launch tube was pressurizing. She keyed her helmet mic. "Shooter, what the fraks going on? Am I being pulled out?"

"Affirmative Starbuck," replied Captain Aaron Kelly. "You need to get your ass into Blackbird RFN for an immediate intercept. The CAP is trailing three Cylon bogeys, and the commander wants them trailed." The rear blast doors opened, and the deck crew was now pulling her viper out into the hanger. She popped the canopy and jumped down off her viper while it was still being towed out. Sprinting for the stealth reconnaissance craft, her pulse quickened in excitement. Within ten minutes, she was hurtling down the launch tubes and out into space. She would have to make a short jump to Hephaestus' location to catch up, they were a long way out.

A bright FTL flash appeared off Jon Horlach's port wing, he could barely make out the silhouette of the Galactica's lone stealth ship. No Colonial transponder could be used for this craft, it was to remain a truly stealth craft until they could come up with an advanced enough transponder burst that could not be detected by Cylon superior technology.

"_Looks like the Blackbird has arrived, Heph." _announced Horlach over the comline.

"Roger that, peacemaker. Let's fall back and let Blackbird take over. Blackbird, Hephaestus...CAP is falling back, you have the tail, over."

"_Hephaestus, Starbuck...Blackbird has the tail."_

"Good hunting Starbuck!" The two vipers chopped speed and allowed enough distance to pass before returning to the fleet, they didn't want to chance their Voram engines tipping off the raiders that they had been followed. Once back within the fleet, they resumed their patrol until their shift was up, with each pilot returning to his own ship.

Adama was with Tigh at the plotting table when Dualla informed him that she had Admiral Cain on the line. Adama picked up the handset attached to the side of the table. "Adama." he spoke calmly into the mouthpiece.

"Commander, I've been informed that you launched your Blackbird to tail the Cylon patrol." said Cain.

"Yes sir, the best chance we have to locate the baseship or outpost is to use our Blackbird. Her composite skin has proven undetectable to Colonial or Cylon dradis. I Have my best pilot at the stick, if anyone will discover anything, it'll be Starbuck."

"Lieutenant Kara Thrace! Yes, her service jacket was a very interesting read, commander. I do hope she maintains discipline and patience on this mission, those two traits don't seem her strongest suit." replied Cain dryly.

"Admiral, I would trust Kara Thrace with my life, as well as every man, woman and child in this fleet. Her skill in the cockpit is second to none, and when the mission is this hot...you wouldn't want anybody else."

"I'll take your word for it, she had better be as good as you say." shot back Cain. "And another item commander...I would appreciate it if you would run by me first, any combat mission, or stealth launches in the future, _Pegasus out_."


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47.

Starbuck had trailed the Cylon patrol into the next system designated Alpha 2. The system was unremarkable in every sense of the word. Scattered asteroid fields littered huge swaths of the system and a lone planetoid of medium size was the sole inhabitant, buried deeply within the field. The patrol gracefully navigated through the deadly maze of ice and rock, finally clearing the field and began their descent. Kara had been snapping digital pictures throughout Blackbird's arrival into Alpha 2, her on-board computer mapped the exact route through the field and she was now clear of the deadly debris. She cut the engines and allowed her momentum to bring her in. Her scans of the surface revealed massive tylium deposits, and what she saw next caused her eyes to open wide. "Oh frak me." From five thousand feet she could see the complex. It was a massive Cylon base. There was obviously a tylium processing plant on the base, at least eighty large tanks were present, the entire perimeter was thoroughly protected by large diameter rail guns, and surface to air missiles. Using maneuvering thrusters she corrected her plane's trajectory and started to fly a parallel course with the length of the base. She needed to get detailed digitals of every aspect of that base, but the thought of cruising at such a slow speed made the hair on her neck stand on end. She was invisible to dradis scans, but all it took was for a one in a million chance of being visually spotted, even with the flat black fuselage of the Blackbird.

After thirty minutes she had taken digitals of every aspect of the base, it was now time to leave, and leave fast. She continued on for almost a few hundred kilometers before beginning her ascent, careful not to allow her exhaust ports to be angled in a way that could be picked up from the base. She was now back into the asteroid field, her palms sweated profusely within her gloves, and she focused carefully on the route before her. After what seemed like an eternity, she was free of the asteroid field and making her way back to the fleet at full speed.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"Commander Adama, incoming communication from Starbuck," announced Dee. "Mission accomplished, Cylon base discovered in Alpha 2, requesting priority approach."

"Instruct her to land immediately, I'll meet her in the pilot's briefing room in a half hour." said Adama leaving Starbuck enough time to land and complete her post-flight checklist. Saul Tigh was also in the CIC at the time, and concern was plastered across his face at the news of a Cylon base.

"Just what we need, a fraking Cylon base." muttered Tigh.

"Let's get Starbuck's report and we'll meet with Cain to discuss our options." replied Adama.

"_Options?_ You mean besides getting the frak out of this system as fast as we can?"

"That'll be the admiral's call, Colonel." corrected Adama. Tigh knew Adama was right, but it didn't make it easier to swallow. Cain was the senior officer, and was now calling the shots. Nothing would change that from now on, it was a new reality that they all had to face, including the President and Quorum.

Starbuck was still in her flight leathers when she entered the pilot's briefing room. The commander and Apollo were sitting in the pilot's chairs while Tigh was over by the podium. Lee stood up quickly, and approached her.

"Great job Starbuck, you earned your pay with this mission."

"You don't know the half of it, Apollo." replied Kara smiling. "This base is fraking huge, and it's also a tylium depot, at least 80 large tanks according to a quick count." Kara quickly walked over to the command console and started to type in commands. "Tyrol's knuckle draggers should have all the digitals downloaded into the system by now." The large display screen flashed to life as images of the Cylon patrol flying into an asteroid field splashed across the screen. Each person in the ready room wore pilot wings, and of those, Tigh and Adama were the most impressed with Starbuck's smooth navigation of the asteroid field.

"Precision flying, lieutenant." grunted Tigh.

"Coming from an old viper jock of your caliber, colonel...I'll take that as a compliment." replied Starbuck. Tigh shot up an eyebrow, he wasn't sure if Starbuck was being facetious or not.

"High probability of losing a pilot or incurring serious damage if we try and send both air wings through that field." observed Lee. "Not all of them are as skilled as Starbuck."

"Or as reckless." chimed in Tigh.

"Those who fear _nothing_, dare _all_, colonel!" replied Starbuck.

Adama spoke up. "Be that as it may Kara, I have to agree with Lee . That asteroid field would be a bitch for a well-seasoned pilot, never mind the amount of green pilots we have in our wing alone." The four officers continued to view the digitals for another twenty minutes. Lee brought up the house lights and turned to face his father.

"Sir, that base is a direct threat to us if we do nothing. It's a fueling point for the Cylons, a long way from the Colonies, which no doubt they still occupy."

"I concur Bill, if we take that base now, just the fuel in those tanks alone would sustain this fleet well into the next star system. _Pegasus_ carries a maximum fuel load, but we do not."

"It does look like a great mark, I agree." said Adama. "Admiral Cain will have to make that final decision though," and he then looked directly at his son. "but in the meantime, I'd like you and Starbuck to come up with some rough ideas for an attack." The two younger pilots replied in the affirmative, and went about their task. Adama and Tigh started to walk back to the CIC.

"What's on your mind, Saul." said Adama out of the blue. His executive officer had remained quiet through much of the briefing, and had been brooding over the last couple of days.

"I should have talked to you about this earlier Bill, but I was hoping my source was wrong, or pulling a prank of the worst taste."

Adama stopped, and turned to Tigh. He gestured for his Marine detail to give them some privacy which they immediately complied with. "Spit it out, Saul."

"She's a crazy bitch, Bill."

"Cain?"

"Yes. I was talking with Fisk the other day over a few drinks, I had inquired about the irregular amount of civilians he had aboard _Pegasus_, and he was quite candid."

"Ambrosia will do that to you." replied Bill.

"If you must know, it was over some rare Libran scotch." shot back Tigh with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Bill..._Pegasus_ had a civilian fleet! I just find it a bit odd that there is a high number of obviously civilian crew members aboard. Tyrol himself told me that their deck chief...Laird was a fraking civilian aeronautical engineer before coming to Pegasus." Tigh let that sink in before speaking again. "The last time I checked, Aeronautical Engineers commanded more cubits than any member of the admiralty, never mind a deck chief in a hanger bay." There it was, confirmation of rumors that Adama himself had heard whispered.

"_Had?_"

"Yes, had. And it gets worse. Long story short, Cain executed her second in command right there in the CIC when he refused to carry out an order to attack a numerically superior Cylon assault force."

"_What?_" demanded Adama, his face a contorted mask of confusion and anger.

"You heard correctly. They thought they were going to attack a Cylon com relay, and it turned out to be a staging area for Baseships, and Cylon raider wings. The XO refused to order the air wing to attack, and advised Cain to retreat immediately. She didn't take kindly to that and relieved him of his sidearm, which she promptly used to shoot him in the head at point blank range."

"Shortly after the attacks, _Pegasus_ was making her way back to Colonial space from her blind jump. She had encountered a small fleet of civilian refugee ships without military protection." Through the short time since Pegasus had joined the fleet, rumors had circulated amongst the enlisted crews, and even some in the officer corps. Whispers of civilian fleets, conscription, executions, abandonment. None that could be confirmed, and nobody willing to put their name behind the accusations. This was something else that Adama took notice of in regard to Admiral Cain. She was well-respected, but a strong layer of fear permeated the crew of the long lost Battlestar.

"Did Fisk confirm this as well?"

"No, he claimed it was merely a jest immediately after telling me, but I suspect the alcohol loosened up his tongue more than he anticipated and he was attempting to backtrack." replied Tigh. Adama resumed walking and looked as if he was going over this recent revelation in his mind. "What do you want to do about it, Bill?"

"For now, _nothing_. With only the rumor mill as our source, I need to do more investigating before making any kind of a move. I doubt that Cain will provide me her personal, or ship's logs so we'll have to go about things quietly. _Very quietly!_"

_**From the Adama Journals:**_

_**Two weeks have passed since our fleet was discovered by the long lost Battlestar Pegasus, and her Admiral, Helena Cain. The morale throughout this ship, and that of the fleet have soared. Our only contact with the Cylons have been a patrol moving through this quadrant, and with the aid of our stealth reconnaissance ship piloted by Lt. Thrace, we were able to discover the location of their base which seems to serve as a fueling depot for their fleet.**_

_**I have been receiving several reports of as-yet-to-be-substantiated rumors surrounding the conduct of Admiral Helena Cain of the Pegasus, in regard to the alleged execution of her executive officer for disobeying a direct order at the time of the attack on the Scorpion Fleet shipyards during the Cylon assault. There are also disconcerting rumors regarding a civilian fleet that Pegasus encountered after the attacks that are no longer under her protection. The presence of large numbers of civilians at first glance indicates conscription, something disallowed under military guidelines. I have refrained documenting my concerns regarding the above matters in my official ship's logs, and will maintain them in my personal log until their authenticity, or lack of, can be established.**_

**Admiral Cain's Private Quarters – Battlestar _Pegasus_**

Helena Cain sat calmly at her desk, the only chair in the entire stateroom. She preferred her subordinates standing when in her presence, and Commander William Adama was no different. That and the lack of chairs tended to expedite meetings. She listened closely to his verbal report, and then dimmed the lights to view the gun camera footage from the Blackbird. At one particular frame she nearly jumped out of her seat, ordering Adama to freeze that particular photo.

"Commander, have you ever seen _that_ before?" She immediately walked over to the wall monitor and pointed to a strange looking ship. Adama moved closer, adjusting his glasses.

"No, its configuration suggests some sort of manufacturing ship, possible a raider assembly ship." Adama replied.

"I doubt that," replied Cain thoughtfully. "Due to a Basestar's lack of serious armor-plating, they are equipped with close to 800 raiders to make up for the disadvantage, four times as many fighters than a Colonial Battlestar, it doesn't seem likely it would be a raider production facility."

"Perhaps a command ship of some kind?"

"Perhaps. That was one of the ships that we were following when we encountered you. It would seem that _they_ had been trailing _your_ fleet since escaping from the colonies. It's always travels with no less than two Basestars."

"Indicating its importance, a high value target." observed Adama.

Cain smiled, her job was going to be easier than she thought. "Well commander, it would appear we're on the same page, I thought it might be a difficult sell to get you to commit to a first strike." Adama turned slowly towards Cain, and spoke slowly, yet with conviction.

"Admiral Cain, _Galactica_ may have been on the defensive for the past few months, but believe me when I tell you...my ship and her crew are ready to take it to the Cylons at any time. We've held our own quite well while safeguarding the remainder of humanity, and it would be a _welcome_ change of pace to turn around and strike back at them first."

"I'm happy to hear that Commander, it makes what I have to say next somewhat easier." replied Cain walking back around to her desk. "After carefully reviewing your ship's logbooks I've decided to implement some personnel transfers." Adama was brought up short, every internal alarm in his body sounding.

"Personnel transfers? I thought you said you had no desire to interfere with my command?" said Adama sternly.

"I'm _saving_ your command, Bill!" Cain shot back. "It's glaringly obvious that you have grown far too close to your crew. Making your son the CAG was your first mistake." Cain started to read excerpts from one log book regarding Lee Adama's occasional bucking of the system, or outright disobedience. He could feel the anger building within. "Kara Thrace, from what I read, I'm quite surprised that you haven't demoted her to mess hall specialist for her conduct, especially her penchant for striking superior officers. And don't let me get started about your XO. I don't know what political pull you used to get Saul Tigh reinstated to active duty, or rise to second in command of a Battlestar, but it's clearly obvious that his fitness for such a vital position is questionable at best."

"With all due respect _Admiral_, Saul Tigh is one of the finest executive officers I have ever served with. I trust the man with my life, and would with the lives of every man, woman and child of this fleet. There is _no one_ who could replace him to my full satisfaction or comfort level." said Adama. There was no doubt that this was Adama drawing a very fine line, Cain understood that immediately. William Adama would not be a pushover, he was an officer that would have to be watched very carefully in the future. The _Galactica_ was vital to her plans, and Adama could be a part of her team, or an obstacle to be removed.

"Commander, you have your orders regarding transfers." said Cain handing Adama the file containing her orders. "You've stated you have options being drawn up for an attack on the Cylon post, I would like to meet back with you here at 1400 hours tomorrow to discuss an op. Dismissed." She swiveled in her chair and retrieved something from the table behind her indicating the meeting was over. Adama walked out of the room without a word and returned to his Battlestar. Cain spun around in her chair as the door to her sleeping quarters slid open. Colonel Fisk stepped out from the darkened room where he had remained silent, listening to the conversation. "Thoughts, Colonel?"

"He could be a problem, sir."

"Nothing that can't be dealt with, wouldn't you agree?" Fisk had no doubt that Cain would remove Adama in the same manner that she removed Pegasus' previous executive officer if he posed too big an obstacle. Helena Cain was ruthless, it was her decision to execute her own executive officer herself, when he disobeyed a direct command in the heat of battle that gained him the position of XO. "Have you reached out to Sarnex?"

"Yes sir, he will be aboard within the hour. He may be someone we can work with. He wasn't an original crew member of _Galactica_, he was there to oversee the dismantling of Galactica's secure networks when the attack happened. His record is mostly sealed due to the nature of his Intel background, but I'm willing to bet the lackadaisical attitude of Adama's command style is an anathema to a professional of his background."

"Alright Jack, bring him here when his shuttle arrives. That'll be all."

**Pilot's quarters – _Galactica_**

Two hours after Adama broke the news of Cain's transfer orders to his son Lee and Starbuck, they were both back in their state rooms packing their belongings, both angry beyond words.

"This is fraking bullshit Lee, what gives her the right to transfer us, where has she been all these months?" demanded Kara.

"Aside from the fact that she's a Rear Admiral, and my father is a Commander?" replied Lee tersely.

"Rear admiral of a mix mash of civilian ships and an obsolete Battlestar, hardly a battle group make." replied Kara angrily. There was a knock at the hatch door, Matt Lensherr stood with his arms folded across his chest.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Yes Hephaestus, if you're here to help then start helping us pack, if not... frak off." said Kara. Matt knew Kara meant nothing by it, that she was just venting, so he let it pass.

"I saw the orders posted, I'm sorry." said Matt.

"Yeah...thanks Matt." Lee replied. "The transfers are immediate, you should be getting some Pegasus pilots in the next few hours, good luck with em."

"Isn't your father doin anything bout this?"

"What can he do, Cain outranks him...period. This isn't a star scouts group, this is the military, and we've all seem to forgotten that to one degree or another. There's a new Fleet Commander in the quadrant, and she's making changes, I hope she chokes on them." Lee was bitter, and he didn't bother to hide his feelings amongst Kara and Matt. The junior officers would never know of his true feelings.

"Lee...Mark Sarnex was ordered to report to Cain this afternoon!" informed Matt.

"Nightstalker? He's not even on the transfer list, what does she want with him?" demanded Kara.

"I don't know," replied Matt. "A Pegasus Marine showed up on the flight deck, gave Mark his instructions, and twenty minutes to depart. If I wasn't getting off CAP, I wouldna have even been there for him to inform me that he was gettin pulled off rotation."

"This is pure bullshit Lee!" yelled Kara.

"I was relieved as CAG an hour ago Kara, let the new CAG sort it out." said Lee. "But damn if that's not suspicious. Does my father or Tigh know?"

"The Marine came wit orders that he passed along to Captain Kelly, to present to the commander at his earliest convenience. Aaron was on the line with the CIC almost immediately. What your father said I have no idea."


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48.

Lieutenant Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex, former Colonial fleet Intelligence officer turned viper pilot, stepped off the Raptor, and onto the immaculate deck of the Battlestar Pegasus. The contrast between the two surviving Battlestars were stark. Pegasus still looked as if it had its original paint on the decking. While not flying nearly as many combat sorties as Galactica, her flight pods were plenty busy, and still kept to military inspection standards daily. Much of the work being performed by conscripted civilians that were lucky, or unlucky enough to be forced aboard. Sarnex immediately recognized Pegasus executive officer Jack Fisk, escorted by two massive Colonial Marines walk directly towards him.

"Lieutenant Sarnex, welcome aboard Pegasus." Fisk said. Mark immediately came to attention and snapped out a crisp salute which was immediately returned. "Please, come this way." Fisk spun on his heel and walked towards the lift, the two marines fell in behind Sarnex who did his best to keep up with Fisk. Mark couldn't help notice crews snapping to attention as Fisk passed, life aboard Galactica was not nearly as strict as what appeared aboard the Pegasus. Commander Adama normally chatted up crew members he passed in hatchways, always a smile or acknowledgment. Fisk exhibited none of that, he merely nodded stone-faced, and moved on.

"Colonel Fisk, may I inquire as to what I'm doing here?" Mark asked.

"You may ask, lieutenant." replied Fisk never turning his head, or slowing his pace. Mark Sarnex had been in the military long enough to know that asking would produce no satisfactory reply, so he remained quiet. Cain's private quarters contained a large spartan office, two equally massive Colonial Marines stood at parade rest outside the entrance. Automatic weapons slung across their chests. Fisk rapped his knuckles against the steel door.

"Enter!" came the voice from within. Fisk and Sarnex entered without their marine escorts. Admiral Cain sat behind her desk, a service folder sat opened before her. Mark knew the contents could only be his service records. She studied the young viper pilot before her, as if trying to fit the image with the written record she had just read moments earlier. "Stand at ease, lieutenant." said Cain with a smile. Turning to Fisk, she dismissed him, and the two were soon alone. "Lieutenant, I've been studying your record, or I should say _what is available_." Cain leaned back in her chair. "Prior to the attacks on the Colonies you were assigned to Fleet Intelligence, your last assignment took you aboard _Galactica_, to strip her of her secure networks before she was to be transformed into a school and museum, am I correct?"

"Yes sir, that would be correct." said Sarnex stiffly.

"Relax lieutenant, this isn't a hearing. As you are aware, I've made transfers in certain areas. Not all of them seem to be at all welcome. The rumor mill has it that there has been vocal opposition to my orders from enlisted and commissioned over there." said Cain gesturing off to the side, as if Galactica was just outside the next bulkhead. "From what I hear, Commander Adama seems fit to let them vent to their heart's content."

"I wouldn't know about that, sir." replied Mark.

Cain smiled, then stood. "Lieutenant, lets cut through the felgercarb, shall we? I've read enough about you to know that you graduated near the top of every one of your classes, received numerous commendations from your superiors, along with two Presidential citations in the black." A description used when the reason for the Presidential citation cannot be revealed due to the secret nature of the mission. "I'd like your professional opinion, from an intelligence officer's outlook, on the command of William Adama." The hair on Mark's neck immediately bristled. He knew immediately where this was heading, and he didn't like it. But he wanted to know where Cain was going with this, he would play the game.

"Admiral, let's just say that the _Galactica_ is by far, the most laid back Battlestar I have ever stepped foot on."

"Would you say that Commander Adama is aware of everything that goes on aboard his ship?"

"Sir, Commander Adama has kept whats left of the human race together. That kind of responsibility would weigh heavily on any officer worth..." Cain cut him off.

"Lieutenant, I have studied _all_ of Commander Adama's logs since the day of the Cylon attack on the Colonies. They are not flattering, _at all_. You were not a member of their crew, you and a handful of pilots were either aboard Galactica at the time of the attack, or rendezvous with her when their own Battlestars were destroyed, or they were left stranded out on the field of battle. Viper pilots tend to be a close segment of the military, and their allegiance to their commander is well known. You on the other hand, are something completely different. You only recently became a viper pilot, when the need for an intelligence officer was low on Adama's priority list." Cain walked over and stood directly in front of Mark, he could feel the confidence and power she projected. "Lieutenant, as I'm sure I have no need to remind you of where your duties as a Colonial officer lay. The day to day operations of the _Galactica_ are currently being monitored by myself, and my own intel unit, to evaluate ship and crew performance, and that of the command staff..._all the way to the top._ " Meaning Commander Adama's performance himself, Mark immediately knew. "I would like to temporarily assign you to my own intel unit, answering to Lieutenant Thorne. Of course no such record will exist, and you will remain aboard _Galactica_ tending to your regular duties as a member of Silver Spar squadron."

"I assume you want my new assignment to remain secret, sir?" Cain merely raised an eyebrow.

"Lieutenant, I know what you've been trained to do on Libran, I also know what one must accomplish in order to receive a Presidential Citation in the black. I have no doubt you know _exactly_ what I expect, and where your duties lay. Lt. Thorne will be making regular visits to _Galactica's_ brig to start interrogation procedures on their Cylon prisoner. He will make himself available to you discreetly in order for you to report your findings. Now, if you have no questions...that will be all." There were no questions, and Mark knew that Cain didn't expect any. He came to attention and saluted, then returned to Galactica.

**1400 Hours – Admiral Cain's quarters**

After an hour of pouring over every aspect of the plan, Cain had her hands folded in front of her face, studying the digital screen before her. She was impressed with what she had seen, and more so by the authors of the plan. She spoke without turning. "I must say that I'm impressed, commander. Kara Thrace didn't strike me as a tactician, your son Captain Adama as well." She said, referring to Lee by his newly demoted rank. "My only question would be, why only one Battlestar for the attack?"

If Adama was surprised by her question, it did not show. The answer should have been as clear as the Nubian sun. "She assumed one Battlestar would remain to protect the fleet."

"Assuming is a terrible habit, commander. I despise it, and make every effort to discourage it in _my_ crew." said Cain with a slight hint of arrogance. "This Cylon base will require the attention of two Battlestars, to quickly overtake and utterly crush their defenses. Let the signal be sent that we're through running."

"Normally I would concur, admiral. However, if this is a fueling depot for the Cylon fleet currently searching for us, chances are there might be Basestars in jump vicinity when we attack. And if that unknown ship is as important as we think, its no doubt going to be well-protected."

"Commander, I plan to have that base, and destroy that Resurrection ship!" announced Cain. The last part of her declaration being a bombshell to those present.

"Resurrection ship?" repeated Adama.

"Yes, Lieutenant Thorne was able to extract that information from your Cylon prisoner this morning." said Cain matter of factly.

"_This morning?_" said Adama, his voice rising, anger just beneath the surface. "Why am I just finding this out now?"

"Lieutenant Thorne answers to me, commander. I wanted time to digest the information he was able to extract." The two Battlestar commanders stared at each other in silence for what seemed an eternity. Cain finally broke the silence. "Commander Adama, it is my opinion that the forces of the Cylon empire is stretched thin throughout the galaxy searching for you and the fleet on your fools quest for Earth. The path back to the colonies are most assuredly clear. After refueling at the base, I plan to destroy it completely and plot a course for home, to take back that which is ours." Adama couldn't believe what he was hearing, it was madness to return to the Colonies.

"I don't think the President or the Quorum will agree to your plan, admiral."

"Commander, I don't give a frak what that preschool teacher or her debate club likes or dislikes. This fleet is under military control, and as the senior military officer, what I agree to is all that matters, am I understood?"

"May I ask when the fleet changed to full military control?" asked Adama. "It was decided at Ragnar Anchorage that the fleet would not be placed under absolute military control, that with the exception of military and security issues, the fleet would be under civilian control." Cain's eyes flashed hot with anger.

"Commander, I'm appalled that a man with your military background wouldn't immediately recognize the sheer folly of such an arrangement. The Cylons launched an unprovoked attack on the twelve colonies, murdering millions of our citizens, nearly wiping out the entire human race, and you would actually place yourself in an inferior role to a person who only hours before the attack had been a school teacher?" Cain's voice was loud enough to be heard outside the sealed doors of her quarters.

"Admiral Cain, I'm merely pointing out that it could be disastrous for the fleet if a Cylon fleet arrived while both _Pegasus_ and _Galactica_ were engaged in an assault on the Cylon base."

"_What do I care if..._" Cain brought herself up short, took a deep breath and composed herself, but it was too late, Adama knew full well what the rest of her outburst would contain. "Commander Adama, with slight modifications, this plan is acceptable to me. Your air wing has had thirty Mk. VII vipers transferred to it, with another ten as soon as Pegasus' on board production facilities can turn them out. I suggest you get your ship prepared for combat, and await your orders." With that, Cain turned her back on her subordinate and merely said. "_That will be all!"_

No sooner was Adama back aboard his Raptor than he ordered the ECO to contact _Colonial One_ over a scrambled frequency. Within moments, the President herself was on the line. "Laura, we need to talk...immediately."

"_Aboard Galactica?"_ asked Laura, a note of concern in her voice.

"Yes, I'll explain it to you the moment you arrive, in my quarters." He cut the transmission and sat down in the co-pilot's seat seething.

**Combat Information Center - _Pegasus _**

"_Yes Colonel?"_asked Cain over the headset's receiver.

"Admiral, we've picked up a burst transmission of the scrambled variety from Adama's raptor to _Colonial One_... just as you suspected he might." reported Jack Fisk.

"_Running straight to the teacher's skirt I see. I have to admit I'm somewhat surprised with Adama. I thought he had more grit than this. We're going to have to deal with him soon, wouldn't you agree?"_

"Yes sir, I do." replied Fisk. "However, might I suggest we wait until after this op? Otherwise there may be further problems if Adama is removed from command before hand." advised the executive officer.

"_Yes, I agree with your assessment. Which only goes to prove my point that Adama has allowed his command to slip to a dangerously lax level of discipline. But that's nothing that can't be fixed with a firm hand and the right commander at the helm." _Without another word, Cain cut the transmission. Jack Fisk put both hands down on the plotting table and breathed out slowly, no good was going to come of this he thought.

**Commander Adama's quarters – One Hour later**

"Oh my gods!" said Roslin softly. "She's insane, Bill. You have to relieve her of command!"

"On what grounds?" he replied matter-of-factly. "She's well within her rights as senior military officer to overturn the orders of a junior officer."

"And what of my status as President of the Colonies?" asked Laura angrily.

"Do you really want me to tell you what Helena Cain thinks of you or your authority?" replied Adama with a slight smile. He took two glasses and filled them with a finger's worth of Caprican brandy that he kept in his bottom desk drawer. "The operation against the Cylon outpost will proceed, we need to neutralize that base, and more importantly... take that fuel."

"You _know_ she's going to make a move against your command at some point, Bill!"

"I know. However she's not stupid enough to do it before the op. My guess, is that she'll wait until we've taken the outpost, and secured the fuel. After that? It's pretty much a given that she'll try."

"_Try?"_

"Laura...the _Galactica_ is _my_ ship, _my_ command. Admiral Cain will take it from me only by prying my cold dead fingers from the deck." He poured another finger's worth in each glass, and sat back in his chair.

Matthew Lensherr sat back in the metal chair in the pilot's lounge, a steaming hot mug of coffee in his hand. Opposite him, sat Pegasus pilot Jon Horlach. Horlach was not exactly popular in the rec room at that moment, as were any Pegasus crewmen aboard Galactica.

"Better watch out Matt, sitting with me is bound to affect your popularity as well." joked Horlach. He sat relaxed, never shying away from eye contact. "It's obvious that Apollo and Starbuck's transfer isn't going over too well."

"Understatement to be certain, laddie. Adama has been the fleet commander since the holocaust, he's run this fleet evenhandedly and kept our arses from bein blown outta the sky by the damned Cylons. There is a fair amount of loyalty to Bill Adama, and deservedly so!" replied Matt.

"I don't doubt it, Matt. Honestly I don't. I'm not the enemy."

"Never said you were, Jon. However...I am curious about the message that ye sent me via my computer that day when we were on CAP. The one bout Cain havin ears everywhere?" said Matt, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I meant it. She does, and I have no doubt she has her own spies in most of the critical aspects of this very ship. I'm gonna level with you Hephaestus... and for both our sakes this conversation better be between you and I." Jon's eyes narrowed, and Matt nodded in the affirmative indicating that it would be. "Cain is a frakin unbalanced, dangerous bitch! She runs her ship in a ruthlessly efficient manner, a manner in which she would be given a court martial by the Admiralty in another time."

"Such as?"

"She ordered the conscription of dozens of civilians that we encountered in a convoy shortly after the attacks. Those that refused to be conscripted, she lined their families up against the bulkhead and executed them. _Men...women...and children!_" he said, adding emphasis on the last four words.

Matt's eyes widened. "How do you know this Jon?" demanded Matt.

"I flew cover for the raptor team that boarded the _Scylla_, Peter Laird's ship."

"Laird, _Galactica's_ new deck chief? He's a civie?"

"Correct. Prior to the Cylon attack, he was a civilian aeronautical engineer from _Caprica. _I was on station above _Scylla_, but was told later on by an extremely angry Marine what had happened within."

"And what did you do?"

"What could I do?" he replied bitterly. "I was no longer a law enforcement officer, Libran was a radioactive wasteland and the only law left was Helena Cain. The same Marine complained to his lieutenant, told him how the civilians were murdered in cold blood by a female officer, and the rest of the boarding party who in turn reported the complaint to Cain."

"What did she do?" asked Matt.

"She had both of them tried and executed."

"On what frakin charge?"

"It didn't matter. They questioned the killings, and that's all it took to get them dead. Listen Matt, my transfer here is to keep an eye on things. Cain for some reason trusts me, probably feels my background for discipline is solid. But I took an oath, and one day I will see Cain answer for her actions, but aboard _Pegasus_ the chances of that happening are near zero. Half the crew are malcontents, especially within the Marine units. Fraking sadists, the majority of them. Cain turned them into her personal police force."

"What I've just told you can get both of us killed, this op is going to be dangerous enough without us having to look over our own fraking shoulders, you need to sit on this for the time being, wait until after the op before deciding what action to take."

"_Action?_ I'm a frakin viper jock! What do ye expect _me_ to be doin about Cain?" asked Matt.

"I would expect you to inform Adama, who would in turn inform the President." replied Jon. "Both are no doubt on Cain's hit list. Your quest for Earth is dead on arrival with Cain, she's hell bent on returning to the Colonies. With _two_ Battlestars and several armed civilian ships, you can bet she's gonna take the risk, the remainder of the human race be damned!"

"You just risked a hell of a lot tellin me this, Jon. Why? What makes me so special?" asked Matt.

"Because my father had a lot of faith in you. He rarely ever talked about his students, but he spoke of you often, said you were different. He once told me you had the makings of a great viper pilot and leader. Rare praise coming from my father, who always was a great judge of character." Matt sat there staring at Jon, soaking in everything that was just said. The man before his was an honorable and trustworthy person, something he noticed was in short demand aboard _Pegasus_.

"_I would concur with your assessment, Peacemaker."_ came a voice from behind. Both Jon and Matt spun around to find Mark Sarnex sitting within earshot.

"I don't like being spied on Nightstalker!" Jon said menacingly.

"At ease Peacemaker, you're not only amongst a fellow Libran... you're among a friend." said Mark with his usual air of charm.

"Am I? What about your private meeting with Cain not too long ago?"

"I've been meaning to ask ye about that myself, Mark. What was that about?" asked Matt. Mark Sarnex casually, but deliberately scanned the rec room. He knew everyone within the room, most of them from Galactica's crew. He stood up and slid the metal chair over to their table, and then looked Jon square in the eye.

"I've heard more than enough out of your mouth to know you could very well be charged with defamation of a superior officer at the least, or taken out by Cain's private Gorilla squad at the worst for talking about the _Scylla_ incident." said Sarnex flatly. Jon Horlach flushed crimson with anger, but Mark held up his hand before he could say anything. "That being said, gentlemen...we're hip-deep in the bull felgercarb. Cain had me escorted to her quarters, and directly asked me my opinion of Adama's command. One doesn't have to be a former intelligence officer with quite a few black ops under his belt to know what she was getting at. Commander Adama is a very real threat to Cain, and for whatever reason, she feels that I'm someone she can work with to keep tabs on him. My guess, is that she took into account my background, and that I was basically stranded on Galactica after the attacks."

"You think she'll make a move against the old man?" asked Matt quietly.

"No. At least not yet." replied Mark. "She needs Galactica for the op against the Cylon outpost, I doubt she'd risk the upheaval that would result aboard ship if Adama was relieved, or found himself suddenly dead at the hands of Colonial Marines. She's crazy, but not stupid, not by a long shot. Part of my job as an intelligence officer was to read people, and let me tell you...we're gonna have our hands full with Helena Cain. She's dangerous in the extreme."

"What about Fisk?" asked Matt.

"If you're asking me can he be turned, then the answer is no. He ascended to executive officer because the previous XO disobeyed a direct order from Cain and caught a 9mm slug between the eyes for his troubles. Fisk would much rather remain converting oxygen to carbon dioxide, and from what I've learned, he's as dirty as a black marketeer." Sarnex chuckled to himself for a moment. "Saul Tigh is a fraking choir singer compared to Fisk."

"What do we do, then?" asked Matt.

"Take Peacemaker's advice, is what we do. We go through with the op and then let Adama make whatever move he feels is appropriate." replied Sarnex. "I have no doubt I'm being watched, so let's try not to look too conspicuous with our company."

"Yuir my frakin assistant squadron leader..."

"Who is having a friendly off duty drink with his fellow pilots," interrupted Mark. "If we're going to meet again to discuss the topic of Cain, then let me be the one to initiate it, okay? Trust me on this."


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49.

Pegasus Raptor 6 was on final approach to _Galactica_, beside the pilot and ECO, there were three individuals aboard. Lt. Thorne and two Colonial Marines. First Lieutenant Alastair Thorne had one job aboard _Pegasus_, to make uncooperative people talk, something he was very good at. Thorne, like Cain, was also a native of _Tauron. _

He was one of five children of a well known Ha'la'tha enforcer, and the only one that chose not to follow the family tradition, although not for any moral objection. Alastair Thorne had a friend in Colonial Fleet's main supply hub who was running a black market operation with military supplies. He enticed Thorne to enlist, who soon became an indispensable partner in the illicit market. The day of the Cylon attack on the colonies, Thorne had just made a legitimate delivery to the _Pegasus_ which was moored at the Scorpion Fleet shipyards for a long retrofit. He was still aboard when Cain blindly jumped away from an incoming nuclear attack. In due time, Cain took notice of the short, balding man of multiple capabilities, not all of them suitable for military life.

Thorne was a cruel man who took great pleasure in breaking the mind, flesh and supposed spirit of the captured Cylon infiltrator known as Gina Inviere that resided aboard _Pegasus_. Inviere's cover was that of a technician for Integral Systems Engineering, the company awarded the bid for the retrofit of _Pegasus_. Once it was discovered that Inviere was indeed a Cylon, Cain ordered Thorne to interrogate her former lover through any means possible. A command that Thorne accepted with great enthusiasm. His methods began slowly yet methodically, often yielding little to no value. In time his methods developed into physical assaults, electrical torture and eventually rape. At one point, he had at least a dozen Colonial Marines lined up outside the door of the cell to forcibly rape the humanoid Cylon. His methods clearly produced results, and Cain was incredibly satisfied with the retribution inflicted on the woman she believed betrayed her in the worst possible sense.

Today's session would be a follow-up on the Resurrection Ship with Sharon Valerii. She had voluntarily given them the identity of the Cylon ship in their last session, but he knew this session would be different. The types of questions he would be asking would clearly be met with resistance. The voice of the pilot soon brought him out of his contemplation.

"_Roger Galactica... we have the ball, speed 115."_

Landing Signals Officer Captain Aaron Kelly penciled in the appropriate information on the grease board before him, when the hatch opened. Deck Chief Galen Tyrol climbed up into the small room that oversaw the flight pod's landing deck. "Greetings Chief, what brings you up from your hole?" inquired Kelly.

"Heard there was another resupply raptor from _Pegasus_ coming in, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in." replied Tyrol.

"Sorry to disappoint you chief, but that raptor coming in isn't loaded with spare parts, it contains the interrogation team." said Kelly pointing out the eight-inch thick glass overseeing the interior of the flight pod.

"Interrogation team? Whose getting interrogated?"

"Boomer is." replied Kelly. Kelly could see the pain across his friend's face, even though Sharon Valerii and Galen Tyrol were no longer lovers, it was obvious that Tyrol still cared about her.

"Yeah, thanks Aaron." replied Tyrol softly as he turned and departed.

**Pilot's Briefing Room – _Pegasus_**

Captain Cole "Stinger" Taylor entered the room at a brisk pace, Marcia "Showboat" Case brought the room to attention. "At ease people!" he said loudly walking over to the CAG's podium. He opened the red binder before him and addressed the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, this will be your briefing on Operation_ Smash and Grab." _At the mention of the code name for the assault on the Cylon outpost, Starbuck had chuckled softly and rolled her eyes in contempt. It did not go unnoticed by the _Pegasus_ CAG. "Is there something humorous that you'd care to share with the room, lieutenant Thrace?"

"No, not really." replied Starbuck with a smile.

"Well obviously you found something funny, lieutenant... and I'd like to know what that was." admonished Taylor without a hint of amusement.

"Well Captain, if you insist." replied Kara.

"_On your feet_ when you speak to a superior officer on _this_ ship, lieutenant!" snapped Taylor. Starbuck narrowed her eyes, and studied the dour officer before her. Lee, who was sitting behind her cleared his throat attempting to send her a message. Letting out a short exhale, Kara reluctantly got to her feet and spoke.

"Well Captain, if you must know, I found your choice of operation designation _funny_. As in the _lame_ sense of the word." replied Starbuck, never taken her eyes off of Taylor's. Lee put his hand up to his head as if in pain.

Taylor smiled for a moment before speaking. He walked around to the front of the podium and stood relaxed a few feet from the row Starbuck was standing in. "You're quite full of yourself, lieutenant...aren't you?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, sir?" replied Starbuck not backing down.

"Let me explain something to you, and any other Galactica pukes here. Aboard Pegasus, we take our flying and the air wing very seriously. No room for smart-mouthed hotshot wannabees who has more time in the brig than in a viper's cockpit."

"Is that why you paint your "kills" on the nose of your fighters, to remind yourselves how full of felgercarb you all are?" challenged Starbuck.

"Admiral Cain hand picked the pilots for every stage of this mission, and for _some_ reason she put you in the first wave. If it were up to me I'd throw your scrawny ass out of this room and into a cell for your disrespect to me and the members of this air wing."

"But, by the fact that the Admiral handpicked all of the pilots leaves me to think it _isn't_ up to you." shot back Starbuck. "Let me explain something to you _Captain Taylor_, Galactica pilots _aren't_ pukes, and I dare say we'd fly circles around you uptight, self-absorbed assholes, any day of the week." Cole closed the gap between them quickly, red hot anger in his eyes. Kara didn't flinch.

"Smart mouthed little bitch thinks she's tough, eh? When this op is over, I'll come calling, just you and I in the place of my choice, where I will proceed to beat some sense _and_ respect into you. _Now sit the frak down...now!" _yelled Cole, spittle striking Kara full in the face. Reluctantly, Starbuck reclaimed her seat, and Taylor returned to the podium where he began his briefing. Over the course of the next hour, he went over every aspect of the mission. Every pilot sitting in that room knew that this would most likely be their most dangerous mission to date. Over the next four hours, each and every one of them would go over their fighters with a fine toothed comb to ensure everything was in order.

In _Galactica's_ port flight pod hanger bay, an assortment of enlisted men and officers were congregating in the tool crib where the deck gang had a distillery concealed behind one of the racks. The deck gang were repaying their counterparts aboard _Pegasus_ for all of the spare parts provided to Galactica's severely depleted stores. Chief Tyrol walked in as glasses were being refilled, a smattering of pilots were about, including Raptor Electronic Counter-measures Officer Lt. Karl "Helo" Agathon. Some of the Pegasus deck gang were bordering on belligerent, it wasn't until one of them had mentioned Boomer that caught Agathon and Tyrol's attention.

"Wait'll Thorne gets through with that thing, he'll have it screaming out the name of every kitchen appliance in its family tree!" laughed a man called Gage.

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_ demanded Tyrol.

"Our 'interrogator' is with it at this very second," boasted Gage's comrade. "Apparently, all efforts to break that thing for information aboard this ship have failed. Hence the reason Admiral Cain sicced Thorne on it. A mixture of laughter and surprise filled the small tool shed as he continued. "The female Cylon prisoner aboard our ship squealed like a stuck _Caprica_ boar when Thorne bent her over the brig railing!" His cruel laugh filled the tool shed, and Agathon and Tyrol looked at each other in horror and raced for the brig. The two men raced to the upper decks at full speed, and were there in less than ten minutes.

**Galactica Brig**

Lt. Alastair Thorne had watched two of his men take turns sodomizing Sharon Valerii. Her eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears, but she never once screamed for mercy. She wouldn't give these animals the pleasure.

"Still nothing to say, huh? Makes no difference to me, in the end... they _always_ tell me what I want to know." snarled Thorne. Sharon's wrists were bound by Marine flexi cuffs to the headboard of her bunk. Her sheets were a mix of blood and other bodily fluids, her prison jump suit had been torn off her and thrown into the corner. Thorne had removed a black leather lash with small metal studs at the end of each tendril from a nylon carry-all bag he had brought with him. He signaled his men to step back and then brought the lash down full upon her buttocks, leaving a a mass of small lacerations. Sharon finally yelled out in pain.

"That caught the toaster's attention!" laughed one Marine while pulling his pants back up.

"Having fun yet, boys?" asked Thorne loudly. "It sounds like this thing here is starting to enjoy our attention." Thorne threw back his arm, and started to bring the lash down hard on the helpless prisoner before him when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Karl Agathon had rammed his shoulder into the Marine who was still pulling his pants up, sending him to fly face first into the plexiglass wall of the cell full force. The second Marine sprang into action only to catch the flat part of Agathon's hand in an outward swinging strike straight to the man's windpipe. Thorne was about to jump to his men's defense when Galen Tyrol grabbed him by the nape of his neck and shoulder, swinging him hard against the nearby bulkhead. Thorne's head struck a protruding deck bolt that served as a clothes hook for the prisoners within the cells, the jagged end of the bolt penetrated the superficial temporal artery , a major artery in the human head.

Tyrol's rage was incredible, he had no idea he had that kind of strength within him. He threw the larger man at least ten feet across the large cell. Thorne's body slowly dropped to the deck, as the sickening sound of tearing flesh filled the room. Blood spurted from the gaping head wound on Thorne, the bolt on the wall was dripping red with fresh blood. The two _Pegasus_ marines had regained their composure, and immediately drew their weapons, training them directly on Tyrol and Agathon. Both men reluctantly put their hands above their heads, and the Marine guarding Tyrol stepped in fast and rammed the butt of his automatic rifle into Tyrol's diaphragm, sending him crumpled and breathless to the floor.

"The first one to move gets a fracking bullet to the head!" screamed one of the Marines. The marine that had struck Tyrol was now behind Agathon, placing him in restraints, the plastic bands dug painfully into his wrists. Tyrol too, was restrained, and the senior Marine pulled out his wireless radio and contacted his raptor pilot still sitting in the hanger bay. Within twenty minutes, the raptor pilot was able to round up a half dozen _Pegasus_ marines that had been aboard _Galactica _and reported to the brig.

"Chief Tyrol and Lieutenant Agathon, as of this time, I am placing you under arrest for the killing of Lieutenant Alastair Thorne. You will be immediately transported to _Pegasus_ to face justice."

"You have no right to remove us from this ship, I demand to see Commander Adama immediately." snapped Helo. One of the recently arrived Pegasus marines slammed the butt of his weapon hard into Karl Agathon's abdomen. Helo, who caught sight of the marine reversing his weapon to strike him, and being in far greater shape than Chief Tyrol weathered the hit slightly better. A Marine sergeant had motioned several of the men outside of the cell to talk to them.

"We need to move the prisoners out of here, and directly to the raptor post frakin haste before any of Adama's command staff, or marine leadership shows up. Cain is gonna want these two aboard Pegasus immediately." He turned to the closest corporal and assigned him the task of securing a gurney from sick bay to transport their dead officer. Pointing to another corporal he said " you stay here and wait for the gurney, as soon as it arrives get the lieutenant in it and move your asses to the raptor."

The marine contingent along with Tyrol and Agathon had made it down to the flight pod unopposed and quickly boarded their waiting raptor. Fifteen long minutes later, the final two marines arrived and wheeled the covered gurney up to the wing where the two largest marines carefully lifted the lifeless body of Alastair Thorne and placed him on the deck. Five minutes later, the raptor departed.

Lieutenant Terry Burrell came running into the brig to find one of his own Marines attempting to calm down an extremely distraught and partially clothed Sharon Valerii. The young Marine, Cpl. Carlo Boreas was originally on guard duty and was relieved by Lt. Thorne's marine detail to go get chow. Upon his arrival he was shocked to learn that the Cylon prisoner was left unguarded, yet still locked in her cell. It wasn't until he noticed her naked and bloody that he took a closer look inside the cell. He saw a pool of blood on the deck that originated five feet higher on the bulkhead at an exposed metal bolt. He called for Burrell immediately.

"What the frak is going on, corporal?" demanded a confused Burrell.

"Sir, I was relieved by Lt. Thorne and his marine detail to go get chow while they interrogated the prisoner. Upon my arrival I found the the cell door secured but no other personnel present. The prisoner was in a high state of agitation, bloody and apparently beaten. She's been screaming like a banshee ever since I arrived." Terry Burrell unbuttoned his battle dress uniform blouse and removed it. Walking over to the cell door he punched in the access code and walked in. Sharon was sobbing in the corner when he cautiously approached. _"Lieutenant!" _he snapped, attempting to jar her back to some sort of composure. Sharon immediately glanced up. "What happened, lieutenant?" asked Burrell handing her his uniform shirt to cover up with. A gesture she graciously accepted.

"That..._officer _from Pegasus, and his two marine goons... wanted information. I couldn't tell them anything more than I told... Adama. They lost it, started to beat me." Sharon's eyes started to fill back up with tears, something that struck Burrell very oddly. "The beatings weren't enough for those savages... they...they..." she couldn't go on, she broke down and cried again. Burrell had noticed the welts on her body, the hand prints still visible, and the tattered uniform crumpled in the corner, he didn't have to guess what they did to the female Cylon before him. Even though she was a Cylon, and the enemy, Terry Burrell was filled with rage that any Colonial Marine would do this to a prisoner, much less a female, even if she was a machine.

"Corporal Boreas, get another marine down here immediately, I want the prisoner escorted to Doc Cottle for treatment." ordered Burrell. Sharon placed her hand on Burrell's forearm and pulled him closer.

"Lieutenant... Helo and Chief Tyrol burst in during the assault to... protect me... The Pegasus officer was... killed! They took Helo and the chief away."

"_Oh frak!" _said Burrell softly.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50.

Mark Sarnex entered the pilot's living quarters deck at a full sprint, heading for the briefing room where he was told he would find Matthew Lensherr. He nearly collided with Raptor pilot Nina Nintius who was standing in the doorway.

"Whoa there intel boy, you nearly damaged the goods." said Nintius with a trace of annoyance.

Never one to be found without a sarcastic quip for every occasion, Sarnex merely looks the auburn haired beauty up and down and replies with his trademark toothy grin, "Nina my buxom beauty, with your ample chest acting as a barrier I doubt I could damage the 'goods' even if I was traveling under full turbos." He gently pushed past her with a devious wink. Matt was standing at the podium going over some notes for Silver Spar's briefing that would take place in another thirty minutes. "Matt, a squad of Cain's gorillas just arrested Helo and Galen Tyrol, they just took off in a raptor bound for Pegasus."

"What?" On what charges?"

"_That_ I don't know. I was going over my fighter when I saw them hustled aboard the raptor. They were in cuffs, and looking worse for wear."

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"Colonel Tigh, I have Lt. Burrell on the line, he says it's urgent." said Dualla from the comm station.

"Pipe it down here, Dee." replied Tigh. He picked up the receiver, and after thirty seconds his eyes went wide and he hung up the phone. "_Mr. Gaeta, you have the conn!_ I'll be in Commander Adama's quarters. No one assigned to the CIC had ever seen Tigh exit the nerve center at such a brisk pace, worry clearly plastered across his face. The CIC of a Battlestar was buried deep within the center of the ship for maximum protection, and the commanding officer's private quarters were a mere twenty yards down the main causeway in order for him or her to be in close proximity when not on duty. Tigh made the short walk in record time, not even bothering to knock on the hatch and await permission to enter. Adama looked up, the look on his friend's face revealed the gravity of the intrusion.

"Out with it, Saul!" said Adama closing the journal he was writing in. Tigh relayed Burrell's accounting of the incident in the brig, and Adama immediately picked up the wall-mounted headset next to his desk and dialed the CIC. "Dee, get me Admiral Cain on the line... _immediately!_" ordered Adama.

**Battlestar _Pegasus_ – The Brig**

Karl Agathon and Galen Tyrol were attired in orange jumpsuits, both individually shackled to an eye hook in the floor by a six foot titanium tether. They had enough slack to travel from bunk to toilet, in Tyrol's case, the manacle attached to his right leg was purposely attached tightly to inflict the maximum amount of discomfort from one of the marine guards. Unlike the older Galactica, Pegasus' detention center did not have manual operated hatches to enter and exit the cells. A large transparent sliding door separated the occupants of confinement from their captors. For the past hour, scores of angry Pegasus crewmen stopped into the restricted area unopposed to see the two "Galactica traitors" who murdered one of their own. It was Helo that noticed the gallery outside the brig quickly disperse, moments later, Admiral Helena Cain arrived with armed ascort. The marine guard punched in the access code and the door slid open. Tyrol and Agathon got to their feet.

Cain studied both men intently, a scowl of disgust appeared on her face as she spoke. "I've had an earlier opportunity to review both of your service records when I assumed command of this fleet, and let me say this gentlemen...you are both a _disgrace_ to the uniform you wear and the oath you've taken." She walked along the edge of the cell, never taking her eyes off the two men shackled before her. "Senior Chief Petty Officer Tyrol, your own military record had been exemplary up to your fraternization with the female Cylon agent Sharon Valerii. Even after it was positively concluded that Valerii was an enemy agent, you still retained an... _attachment_ to that thing. Interfering with an official interrogation, and killing one of my officers in the process."

"Begging the admiral's pardon, but since when has Colonial Fleet regulations recognized _rape_ as interrogation?" challenged Tyrol.

"That _thing_ wallowing in Adama's rusted brig isn't a human female, it's a thing..._a fraking machine!_ You consciously chose to protect the enemy over one of your own, if it was up to me I'd flush you out an airlock right this instant." Her burning gaze switched over to Agathon. "And you, a serving Colonial officer, actually involved himself, and impregnated that thing. To me, that's even worse than what _he_ did." she said, gesturing to Tyrol.

"Sharon isn't a machine, she's a living, breathing person! Your goons beat and raped her to get information, is that how things work on Pegasus?" replied Agathon angrily. Cain shook her head in disbelief, the look in her eyes clearly revealed the contempt she held these two men in.

"Your own treasonous words reveal where your loyalties lie. After reading the report by marine witnesses, and the post mortem report by this ship's surgeon, as senior officer of the fleet, I find you both guilty of Treason, Insubordination, Conduct Unbecoming, and _Murder_ of a commissioned officer of the Battlestar _Pegasus_." Cain clasped her hands behind her back. "Seeing as how we are still in a state of war with the Cylons, the penalty for the listed offenses is death. May the gods have mercy on your black souls!" Cain walked out of the brig and into the hallway where she was greeted by her executive officer who informed her that Commander Adama was on the line.

"Inform Commander Adama that I'll get to him at my earliest convenience, colonel!" Jack Fisk returned to the CIC, knowing that this was going to get bad fast.

**Commander Adama's Quarters - Battlestar _Galactica_**

"_She'll get back to you?" _yelled Tigh. Adama had replaced the handset into the receiver and sat back in his chair.

"Her way of reminding me who's in charge here." replied Adama. "Look Saul, we need to take a wait and see approach with this situation for the time being. I'm sure there will be a preliminary hearing to gather facts and evidence before we're even talking military hearings."

"I'm not getting a good feeling about this Bill, not in the fraking least."

**Pilot's living quarters – _Galactica_**

Mark Sarnex stepped from the showers, once again the water was luke warm. He grumbled about the state of plumbing on the elderly Battlestar and started to towel dry his hair. Wiping the steam off the mirror, he was caught off guard by the presence of Colonel Jack Fisk, Pegasus' executive officer.

"Colonel Fisk?" stammered Sarnex attempting to come to the position of attention while completely nude.

"For frak's sake wrap a towel around yourself, lieutenant and relax." Fisk walked through the latrine and pushed open the doors of each stall to ensure they were alone before speaking further. Satisfied, he turned towards Sarnex. "With Lieutenant Thorne dead, I've been instructed to be your contact for the admiral. What's been going on?"

"Sir?"

"Look Sarnex, don't waste my time. I don't like being an intelligencer any more than you like being a mole, whats the word since the arrests of Agathon and Tyrol?"

"Nobody is happy about it, myself included. Both men are well-respected and liked." reported Mark pulling on his trousers.

"They sided with the enemy against their own!"

"Rape isn't condoned in the minds of civilized human beings, colonel." Fisk studied the man before him, try as he might, he couldn't figure out Mark Sarnex.

"And what is the mood of the command staff?" pressed Fisk.

"About the same as everybody else, sir!" It wasn't what Fisk was expecting to hear, and he was sure Cain wouldn't be pleased about it. Loyalty to a comrade-in-arms was entirely understandable, but to a traitor?

"Alright lieutenant, carry on. The op is only a few hours away... good hunting!"

Outside Matthew Lensherr's quarters, a pair of boots sat on the deck outside the closed hatch, the universal signal indicating that the current occupant was not to be disturbed. Sex was a way of life for the majority of pilots aboard Galactica, and the universal signal was always honored by the men and women of the air wing. Drinking to excess was Within the stateroom for the squadron leaders, D'Anna rolled over onto her back, she was breathless, and her fair skin glistened with sweat from the marathon sexual intercourse that took place over the last two hours. Matt propped himself up on his right side in the small bunk, he too was dripping with sweat and satisfaction.

"That was absolutely amazing, lass. I didn't think a human being could bend their bodies like that!" said a breathless Matt.

"That's because I'm a Cylon, Matthew! The seldom seen sexual fireball model." teased D'Anna.

"If all the Cylons looked like yuirself love, I'd throw me hands up in surrender this very instant." retorted Matt.

"Oh you would?" said D'Anna in a sing-song voice, a devious twinkle in her eye. "Maybe I should put you in my Cylon dungeon right now, so you can't go on that fool's mission." she said in mock seriousness.

"What would my squadron do without me lass? We're gonna need every swingin dick out there on this one. Much as I luv ya, my arse _will_ be in me cockpit in less than two hours."

"You have such a way with words, Matthew. My gods...I've fallen in love with you all over again." said D'Anna sarcastically as she rolled out of the bunk and started to dress. Matt immediately sensed her mood change.

"What is it, D'Anna?"

"This mission! Is it really _worth it?" _ asked D'Anna, her eyes starting to moisten. Matt could tell she was worried about him, but this was far from his first dangerous mission, and she knew that. "My sources tell me that the asteroid field you have to fly through is daunting to the most seasoned pilots, much less the nuggets."

"Yuir 'sources' would be airlocked if Cain knew there was a leak of operational details." responded Matt. "I know I don't have to tell you to watch what you say, especially around Pegasus' personnel. I don't trust the lot o' them as far as I can throw em!"

"Would there be something about Admiral Cain that you know that you aren't sharing with me love?" purred D'Anna. "I caught wind of something juicy, but trying to get a sit down with that woman is next to impossible. All requests have gone unanswered."

"What have you heard about Cain?"

"Something about civilians making up a portion of her crew, but there is something else related to civilians that I can't jar loose." Matt bolted upright, nearly smacking his forehead on the bottom of the bunk above him. His face a mask of complete seriousness.

"D'Anna listen to me good, lass...do not, I repeat, _do not_ talk about that subject with _anyone." _Matt's tone of voice was one D'Anna seldom heard. He was deathly serious, and she picked up immediately on his level of concern. "There's more to that particular rumor than you could possibly know, something that could blow up in your face, and spread complete chaos throughout the fleet."

"Sounds like a Fleet News Service exposition to me." joked D'Anna trying to lighten the mood. It had the completely opposite effect on Matt.

"_I'm serious woman!"_ Matt said, more harshly than he intended, she stepped back startled. He took D'Anna in his arms and hugged her tightly before speaking again, this time more calmly. "D'Anna me luv, you have to trust me completely on this. Admiral Cain is dangerous, in my opinion she is a direct threat to the safety of this fleet. As far as civilians conscripted into her crew goes, that is a story so explosive that I'm doing my best not to be part of it, for fear of my own safety. All I'll say is that Adama is aware of the rumors, and anything that's gonna happen will happen at _his_ level." D'Anna nodded silently, and kissed Matt.

**Combat Information Center – thirty minutes to launch**

Colonel Tigh was the officer in charge when the call from Pegasus came through. His old friend and counterpart, Colonel Jack Fisk was on the other end of the line.

"_Saul, I'm truly sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately the unpleasant duty has fallen to me."_ began Fisk.

"Out with it Jack, we've got a mission to concentrate on over here." replied Tigh gruffly.

"_Saul, Admiral Cain has found Tyrol and Agathon guilty on all counts, they've already been advised of their sentences, which will be carried out immediately after the operation. The sentence is death."_

"This has better be a fraking joke, colonel!" The comment carried clear across the CIC, well within earshot of everyone in the room.

"_Afraid not, Saul. The admiral listened to the evidence presented by the marine detail present, the autopsy report, and your own men's sworn statements, as the senior military officer of the fleet, she found them to be guilty, and handed down the sentence. I'm sorry!" _If Tigh heard the final words Fisk didn't know, the sound of the receiver being slammed into its receptacle severed the transmission.

"Mr. Gaeta, page Commander Adama immediately!" ordered Tigh. "What gods-awful fraking timing." he then muttered to himself.

Commander Adama was in the flight pods when he heard the public address system advise him to contact the CIC immediately. He walked over to the nearest bulkhead-mounted phone unit and dialed the CIC. Colonel Tigh picked up the connection himself, which was Adama's first sign that something was wrong. "Adama." Tigh relayed the exact message from Fisk to his commanding officer. The response was immediate.

"Colonel Tigh, have a heavily-armed Marine fire team stand by to launch in a Raptor in ten minutes, also I want two squadrons ready to launch as backup for the fire team. I'm on my way up there now!" Adama's seething rage built with every step he took, what was Cain doing? When did the courts martial even _start? _The Marine private standing guard outside the hatch of the CIC knew his commander's body language very well, and every fiber of his being screamed to get the frak out of Bill Adama's way. He quickly opened the hatch and stepped aside.

"Petty Officer Dualla, ship to ship communications with the Pegasus, high scan scramble, please!" ordered Adama. Anastasia Dualla quickly open the channel between the two Battlestars, and Admiral Cain was soon on the other end of the line.

"_Yes Commander, what can I do for you?" _said the voice at the other end of the transmission.

"You assured me those men would get a fair trial, what kind of trial could they possibly have gotten?" replied Adama angrily.

"_Commander Adama, I heard all relevant testimony, weighed the records of the two men themselves and issued my judgment as is my right and duty as the senior military officer of this fleet."_

"You can quote whatever regulation you please admiral, but I am _not_ going to allow you to execute _my_ men!" challenged the junior officer.

"_Commander, I seriously advise you to reconsider that statement, military regulations give me broad authority in this matter._" snapped Cain.

Adama placed his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver and directed his executive officer to launch the alert fighters and Marine fire team. Aboard the Pegasus, the tactical officer's dradis board indicated vipers and one raptor launching from Galactica. Cain struggled to control her fury.

"_Commander... why are you launching vipers?"_

"Please have your Marines turn over the two Galactica officers to my Marine detachment once they've landed, Admiral." informed Adama stiffly.

"_I don't take orders from you!"_ spat out Cain.

"Nevertheless Admiral, _I'm getting my men._ Galactica Actual out!"

"Admiral Cain, I have two squadrons identified as Silver Spar and Red squadron approaching Pegasus, along with a raptor." informed Colonel Fisk.

"Sound action stations, launch intercept fighters immediately." ordered Cain. "Adama has taken us over the line."

"Admiral, this _will_ spiral out of control fast!" warned Fisk.

"He's left us no choice, colonel."

Forty vipers bearing _Galactica_ markings on their vertical stabilizers bore down on the massive battlestar, flew a protective formation around the raptor bearing the marine fire team. Within moments, three times as many Pegasus vipers exploded from their launch tubes to intercept them.

"Commander Adama, Pegasus launching intercept fighters, outnumbering our own." warned Mr. Gaeta.

"Launch remaining squadrons, all vipers are to hold fire until ordered otherwise, I want confirmation from the squadron leaders, Mr. Gaeta." The situation had officially gone from bad to worse.

**Viper 6101 – Captain Matthew "Hephaestus" Lensherr**

"_Attention all vipers, Blue and Red Aces squadron have launched and will be takin up position on our sixes. Pegasus has launched intercept fighters, do not... repeat do not fire until ordered to do so." _ordered Hephaestus_. _The distance was closed in a matter of minutes, and both sets of vipers were coming at each other head on. The vacuum of space was filled with a palpable tension.

"Hephaestus, Raptor 4... these guys are coming in hot!" warned Nina "Betty" Nintius.

"_Hold yuir fire, Betty...lets see if they let yuir raptor through." _replied Matt over the comline. Pegasus vipers flew dangerously close to Raptor 4, crisscrossing the flight path. Nina worked her maneuvering thrusters furiously, trying to avoid a collision.

"Mother fraking dirtbags, they're doing their best to keep me from going in, how about a shot across somebody's bow, Heph?" requested Nina, already knowing what the answer would be.

"_Hold yuir ample guns, lass. Lets see if we canna get Nightstalker and Hotdog to run interference for ye._"

**Galactica CIC**

"Commander Adama, dradis contacts bearing 257 carom 121," warned Gaeta. "Warbook positively identifies as Cylon attack craft, looks like at least one Basestar."

"So much for the surprise op." deadpanned Adama.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51.

"Massive incoming Cylon attack force arriving from sector three alpha, the lone baseship is holding back." advised Gaeta.

"Letting the raiders do the dirty work." observed Tigh.

"Colonel Tigh, launch whatever we've got left in reserve and advise the fleet to jump to emergency coordinates." ordered Adama. "He turned to Dualla. "Get Admiral Cain back on the line!"

**Combat Information Center – _Pegasus_**

"Admiral, current raider count is six hundred forty-two. They are on an intercept course for the fleet." informed the tactical officer.

"Launch Gold squadron and both reserve squadrons, Colonel. Bring main batteries online and swing us about, we're stuck dead center in the middle of these gods-damned civilian ships." ordered Cain.

"Admiral, Galactica has issued emergency jump orders to the fleet, and Commander Adama is hailing us."

"Put him through, lieutenant!" said Cain furious. The communication link was soon opened, and Cain jumped right into the fray. "Commander Adama, just what the hell do you think you're doing instructing the fleet to jump away?" demanded Cain. "There is one commander of this fleet, and that person is myself!"

"_Admiral, put aside your wounded ego for a moment and get your head in the fight." _chided Adama._ "They've got us outnumbered by at least six squadrons, and that's in addition to whatever they'll send out from that outpost. For now, I'm diverting my squadrons away from Pegasus and into the battle to cover the withdrawal of our civilian ships."_

"This isn't over, Commander! When we're done with the Cylons I want to see your ass standing tall in my office to discuss your insubordination."

"_I have no intention of cooling my heels in your brig, admiral. I will not allow you to execute two of my men and I meant it. You do whatever it is you have to, and so will I. But in the meantime, we've lost the element of surprise for the op, and enemy fighters are closing in on the fleet...Focus your anger on the real enemy, _Adama out!" Cain was incensed at being hung up on, Adama had gone too far, she would have to deal with him.

The fleet started to jump away, and the combined air wings of both Battlestars engaged the lethal Cylon raiders. The vipers plowed through the initial wave with abandon, blasting the bio-mechanical terrors out of the stars. Aboard Raptor 4, Nina had ordered Racetrack to deploy the articulating arms that housed the Spectra Six missiles.

"Racetrack, lets clear the front lines of those slit-eyed bastards!" yelled Nina from the pilot's seat. Margaret Edmondson fired off the entire salvo of port side missiles in a staggered firing solution. Each missile programmed to detonate ten seconds after the other. The devastation was catastrophic deep into the wall of Raiders.

"_Betty, Hephaestus... great work lass, you've got em reeling. Silver Spars move into the path she cleared for us." _ordered Lensherr. The pilots of Silver Spar squadron plunged into the vast opening created by Colonial Spectra Six missiles. Pegasus' new CAG, Starbuck followed suit, ordering Green and Omega squadrons into the corridor. It was a free for all, with Colonial vipers laying waste to any Cylon raider unfortunate enough to be in their path.

"_Hephaestus, Peacemaker... you've got two coming at you from four o'clock high, bank hard right and climb!" _The maneuver worked as the two raiders over shot Matt's viper. They were promptly destroyed by Peacemaker coming in on their six.

"Thanks Peace, never saw em coming." replied Matt over the comline. He pulled up next to a battle scarred Mk. II viper, the tail number identified it as Nightstalker's. He was chasing down a Heavy Raider that was doing a remarkable job of evading fire. "Nightstalker, Hephaestus, on your starboard wing, don't let that sucker escape."

The fleet had all but disappeared, only one civilian ship remained; the _Virgon Express_, a type of salvage and repair ship in the fleet, its purpose was that of a mobile spacedock. _Galactica_ had pulled alongside it, placing itself in-between the Cylons and the small ship experiencing FTL failure. Point defense turrets lit up the skies as raiders attempted to get to the defenseless ship. A Heavy raider made its was through the lethal fire, taking heavy fire, only forward momentum kept itself going as it passed through Galactica's defense zone and rammed headlong into the side of the port flight pod, leaving four launch tubes badly damaged.

"Damage report!" snapped Colonel Tigh as the ship trembled slightly at the impact.

"Impact damage to the port side flight pod, frames sixteen through twenty." reported Gaeta. "The LSO is reporting damage to launch tubes seven through eleven." Baseships had now jumped into the battle and were launching their raider compliments.

"That's two more Baseships, Bill. Lawson needs to get that pile of scrap metal's FTL drive up and running or we won't get out of here." Before Adama could reply, Dualla was announcing a priority message from Admiral Cain.

"Sir, message from Admiral Cain, she's announcing a recall of all vipers, and ordering immediate jump as soon as fighters are secured."

"_We still have a civilian ship with FTL trouble out there, her gods-damned dradis plainly shows it."_ snapped Tigh.

"Dee, inform the flagship that we will recall our fighters once the _Virgon Express_ is away." countered Adama. The message was sent, and the reply was immediate. Adama instructed Dee to put the message over the loud speaker.

"_Galactica Actual, you are ordered to land your vipers and jump to the emergency standby coordinates immediately...Confirm!"_

"Pegasus Actual, we _still_ have a disabled civilian ship unable to jump away, Galactica _will_ remain to provide cover until their FTL is restored...Galactica Actual out!" Adama gestured to sever the transmission, and Tigh was quickly at his side.

"Crazy bitch was prepared to abandon a civilian ship to the raiders, this has got to end Bill. You need to relieve her." said Tigh.

"Now isn't the time to discuss it Colonel, lets get the air wing ready to make combat landings once the _Virgon Express_ is away. Mr. Gaeta, I want Batteries two and four set to salvo fire, those baseships are closing."

**Combat Information Center – _Pegasus_**

Rear Admiral Helena Cain was nearly boiling over with rage. She was not going to have her orders ignored, especially not by someone like William Adama. "Helm, prepare to jump to the standby coordinates." Colonel Fisk stood opposite her on the other side of the plotting table. His voice was loud enough for her to hear him over the klaxon, but not loud enough for others to hear.

"Admiral, we're not going to leave those ships out here are we?"

"Colonel Fisk, this ship, as formidable as it is, is not going to be jeopardized in a prolonged fight with three Baseships. We'll regroup on the other side. If Adama wants to sacrifice his ship's safety for some civilian ship then that's his problem. If he survives to join us he won't be in command for much longer anyway." Jack Fisk served with Helena Cain since the day she took command of the Pegasus. He knew her to be a stern commander, he knew of her powerful connections in the admiralty that helped propel her to the highest ranks in Colonial Fleet, but he also knew of her thirst for power, and when she had her mind set on something, nothing could alter it. He also saw what she did to his predecessor, Colonel Jurgen Belzen. Cain treated his persistence in questioning her command to attack a massively superior Cylon attack force, and then official refusal to carry out her order as insubordination and shot him with his own sidearm right there where he was now standing. He had no intention of following Belzen's example.

The vipers from Pegasus had received their coded commands to return to the ship immediately, it wasn't until Hephaestus radioed her that she knew something was grossly amiss. "_Starbuck, Hephaestus... where are you going?" _

"Hephaestus, didn't you receive the recall orders, we're bugging out of here. Get your ships back to the Bucket." ordered Starbuck.

"_Starbuck, the Virgon Express' FTL drive is still down, we're not going anywhere. What the hell is goin on?"_

Something was very wrong, Kara knew that Adama would never abandon a civilian ship to save his own ass, and for the Galactica to be providing cover to a disabled ship meant that the vipers had to be keeping the enemy _off_ of Galactica. She was the CAG, and no way in hell was she leaving her old shipmates and a disabled civilian ship at the mercy of the Cylon attack armada.

"_Starbuck to all vipers, stand your ground... repeat stand your ground and keep the bandits off of __Galactica and the Virgon Express." _Aboard Pegasus, Cain was ready to explode.

"Mr. Hoshi, instruct all squadrons to return to their respective baseships immediately. No orders are to conflict with those coming from the flagship!" Within moments of the order, every one of Pegasus' vipers and raptors reversed course and headed for Pegasus. Starbuck was aghast at what she saw, the reversal of vipers allowed the raiders to quickly regroup.

"Pegasus, Starbuck with an emergency transmission."

"_Starbuck, from Pegasus Actual you are to land your squadrons immediately and maintain radio silence...over."_

"Frak that, I am not abandoning a civilian ship!" replied Starbuck over the wireless. "Hephaestus, Starbuck... fall back and let the raptors launch a Spectra Six salvo. Every fraking missile you Raptor Ranglers have left... let em fly."

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"Commander, Captain Lawson reports his FTL back online and is spooling back up to jump." reported Dualla from her com station.

"Dee, once _Virgon Express_ is away give the recall order, immediate combat landings for all ships. Mr. Gaeta, prep the ship for jump, as soon as the flight deck is secure jump us the hell out of here.! Ordered Adama.

The _Pegasus_ filled the skies with deadly fire, leaving a small path to each flight pod open for approaching raptors and vipers to land. Most of her vipers were now safely aboard. Only its CAG was still out, fighting a defensive withdrawal with Galactica's squadrons.

"Admiral, almost all ships are aboard, we have fourteen confirmed KIA's and Captain Thrace's viper is still out there with _Galactica's_ forces." informed the tactical officer. "Two Baseships well within effective firing range, they've launched a full salvo of missiles, sixty five and counting."

"I'm very disappointed in Captain Thrace, well she can fend for herself out there with Adama's idealistic fools. Colonel Fisk, jump this ship immediately!" ordered Cain. In a flash, the massive Mercury-class Battlestar vanished, leaving the _Galactica_ and _Virgon Express_ behind.

The Raptor's Spectra Six attack allowed the badly outnumbered vipers to regroup closer to Galactica, they had lost at least six more vipers since the withdrawal of Pegasus' air wing, something that no one viper pilot present would soon forget, especially Starbuck. The Basestars had now redirected their attention to the sole remaining Battlestar, the three Cylon capital ships rained unholy punishment down onto the _Galactica_. Her heavy shielding absorbing much of the damage, but even shielding had its limits.

"_Virgon Express_ is away, commander!" reported Gaeta.

"Dee, land our birds immediately!" ordered Adama. The dorsal side of Galactica took a direct hit from a pair of missiles that made it through the flak shield thrown up to protect her. Adama was thrown to the deck, but not before catching the corner of the plotting table just above his left eyebrow. The gash bled profusely as he pulled himself to his feet. Like darting sparrows, the vipers streaked into the immense landing bay, landing as quickly as they could.

"Landing bay secured!" announced Dualla. With the ship rigged to jump, Lt. Felix Gaeta slipped the jump drive key into place and turned it clock-wise. Galactica vanished.

**The Fleet – Emergency Jump Location**

"Sitrep Colonel!"

"Structural damage dorsal side, frames twelve through twenty seven. Number two battery sustained a direct hit from a missile, and no report from the LSO yet on fighters." reported Tigh. He stepped in close and held out his handkerchief to Adama. "You better get Cottle to stitch that up, Bill... it's bad."

Ignoring his second in command's advice he turned to the tactical station. Mr. Gaeta, fleet status?"

"All ships present and accounted for, commander."

"Commander I have Admiral Cain on the line." informed Dualla. Adama nearly ripped the receiver from its cradle in anger. He paused and took a deep breath, gathering his composure before opening his mouth.

He spoke sharply. "Adama!"

"_Commander Adama, get your ship back in order, and after you've done a proper assessment of casualties and damage, you are to report to my quarters immediately." _ordered Cain icily.

"Admiral Cain, as I stated before, I have no intention of cooling my heels in your brig. We _will_ have a very long discussion on the matter of my men, and the Cylon attack, but it will _not_ be on the Pegasus!" challenged Adama. Their was a moment of silence, and for a moment he thought she severed the connection with him.

"_Very well commander, make it Colonial One then, perhaps you'll draw comfort from clutching your president's skirt." _taunted Cain.

"The last time I checked she was _everyone's_ president, admiral. Nonetheless, _Colonial One_ it'll be, just you and I, in two hours! Adama out!" He slammed the phone back into its cradle and headed for his quarters. "Colonel Tigh...you have the conn, get whatever repairs are needed underway and have Doctor Cottle report to my quarters immediately!" he said as he exited the CIC.

_**From The Adama Journals:**_

_**Our planned op to attack the Cylon outpost has been scrubbed, we had lost the element of surprise at some point along the way, and the Cylons attacked us with three Baseships, and support from the outpost. I will say that the timing of the attack was fortuitous. Contrary to Admiral Cain's promise of a fair hearing in regard to the murder charges against Lt. Agathon and **__**Senior Chief Petty Officer**_

_**Tyrol, she initiated hearings on her own, without my involvement, and found them guilty. Acting as judge and jury, she sentenced them to death.**_

_**I ordered a Marine fire team to board the Pegasus, and retrieve the men to be brought back to Galactica, where they would be given a proper Courts martial. Two viper squadrons flew escort which in turn were met by vipers from the Pegasus. If not for the surprise Cylon attack, there may have full well been a shooting war between Galactica and Pegasus. During the attack, a civilian ship, the Virgon Express experienced temporary FTL failure and could not jump away to safety. I ordered the Galactica brought into a covering position while repairs to their FTL commenced. At this time, I am extremely disturbed to report that Admiral Cain ordered the Virgon Express to be left behind. The flagship then jumped away, leaving this ship to hold off three Basestars until repairs could be made. At this time I cannot tell if her decision was made out of self-preservation and fear, or complete lack of regard for the civilians of the fleet. In thirty minutes, these matters will be addressed with Admiral Cain and the President.**_

**Hanger Bay "B" - _Galactica_ Port Flight Pod**

"Frakin aye Starbuck, what in the name of the Gods was that all about?" asked a very angry Matthew Lensherr. "Pegasus fighters bugged out, leavin us to hold off the Cylons, then that bitch jumps away like a gutless daggit!"

"Calm down Lensherr, you see me standing here too don't you? I'm her _CAG_ for frak's sake, she left me too. There has to be a reason for it!"

"Yes, there is indeed." came a different voice. Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach stepped out from behind a bulkhead.

"Private conversation Peacemaker, take off!" sneered Starbuck. Horlach didn't move.

"You have a hearing problem, _lieutenant?_" said Starbuck.

"No _captain_, I hear just fine." replied the viper pilot. "The reason for Cain leaving us all behind is because Adama chose to protect a civilian ship over obeying her order. As far as she's concerned, Commander Adama placed an irreplaceable military asset at risk over a civilian ship, and worse...dared to defy her orders."

"Jon, the Pegasus ran from the fight, and six good pilots were lost as a direct result. How do ya square wit that?"

"Matt...I hear what you're saying, and all of us left out there has every right to be mad. I didn't choose to become part of Cain's crew, and I sure as hell don't agree with her current tactical decision, or past ones. You _know_ why she transferred me to _Galactica's_ air wing." said Horlach.

"It looks like I'm the only one here that _doesn't_ know why peacemaker, so why don't you fill me in." replied Starbuck. Matt needed to move this conversation to a more private setting before someone overheard them. He gestured Kara and John into a nearby storage locker and secured the hatch.

"Kara, Jon was transferred here to be Cain's spy in the air wing. He wasn't an original crewman of the Pegasus, he was picked up in a Raptor he was flying back to Libran when the attack started."

"Libran?"

"Yes Captain, I was a Law Enforcement officer returning to my department with an obsolete surplus Raptor donated from Galactica itself. My Colony was wiped out by nuclear bombardment, there wasn't a trace of my family or home... it was completely vaporized." No sign of emotion was displayed as Horlach told his story.

"I'm sorry for your loss Peacemaker." offered Kara. Horlach ignored the comment and continued.

"I was picked up by the Pegasus, and for whatever reason, Cain took an interest in me, trusted me completely. Admiral Cain is unbalanced! Her ultimate goal is to return to the Colonies to '_kick the Cylons off our home worlds.'_ It's delusional, the Colonies are no more, and not even two Battlestars will be enough to retake them."

"You're wrong about that!' interrupted Starbuck. "There are people still alive on _Caprica_, resistance fighters that have stayed alive in the high grounds, well above the low lying radioactive areas just waiting to be rescued. I was there, fought along side of them myself! Adama and Roslin refused to go back to help them, Cain is the only one who wholeheartedly backed my request."

"Cain is playing games with your mind and emotions Starbuck. She'll tell you whatever it is you want to hear as long as it furthers her own goals. Trust me, she's dangerous. She will cannibalize every civilian ship in this fleet, conscript men and women into her ranks to strengthen her Battlestar. Adama's days are numbered in singular digits, and he know that." Starbuck looked at Peacemaker as if he was mad. Matt spoke up.

"Lass, it's true. Cain once had a civilian fleet. She stripped every one o' those ships from air-scrubbers to FTL drives. Took men and women she felt would be a useful addition to her crew, and left the rest stranded to face the Cylons, or a slow death by starvation, drifting in ships far from home wit only sublight drives."

"How do you know this?" demanded Starbuck. "Commander Adama and the President would have done something if this was true."

"Shut up and listen Starbuck!" said Horlach raising his voice. "Adama is a dead man walking. He is an obstacle to Cain and her plans. All she wants is the Galactica. And as far as the president goes... Cain doesn't even take her calls. She doesn't recognize civilian control of the fleet, doesn't respect it, and doesn't respect Adama for allowing it to happen in the first place. She pulled out during a battle to save her ship, and she left _you here_, what does that tell you?" Starbuck couldn't reply, she knew the last part was exactly right, even if unsure about his allegations about Cain's civilian fleet.

"Starbuck, where is Apollo?" asked Matt.

"The admiral pulled him off flight status just prior to the attack. He's still aboard the Pegasus."

"Alright, this whole thing is a cluster frak right now, Adama backed her into a corner publicly by sending over vipers and a Marine fire team to take Tyrol and Agathon. The Cylon surprise attack was a momentary respite that bought us a little time." said Horlach.

"Time for what?" asked Starbuck.

"To take out Cain!" replied Matt softly.

"_Are you both mad?" _said Kara, more statement than question.

"No Captain, we're both extremely sane. Helena Cain is a mad daggit that needs to be put down before she destroys this fleet. She _will_ make a move against Adama's command, by terminating Adama himself and installing her own trusted choice to command _Galactica._ Colonel Tigh will be relieved of command, and anyone loyal to Adama will be replaced immediately."

"We have to tell Adama." said Kara anxiously.

"He already knows lass, he's got somthin up his sleeve, somethin that involves Nightstalker."

"What the hell is that weasel going to do? The only thing Sarnex is good at is roping stupid young females into having sex with him, or talking loads of felgercarb." said Kara with a tone of disgust in her voice.

"Kara...that's exactly what Mark wants you, and everyone else to think bout him. You be forgettin that he was with Libran Intelligence before the attack on the Colonies. He's completely loyal to Roslin and Adama, and more importantly...loyal to the people of the fleet that depend on us to protect em. Now lass, any questions?" asked Matt.

"Yeah...when are you going to lose that frakin annoying Aerilonian accent? You've been around normal-speaking people for months now...try working a little harder on that, will ya farmboy." said Starbuck cracking a weak smile. She turned to Horlach and spoke. "Alright, if you're right, and she is a threat to Adama, then I consider her a threat and will do what you need of me. That Pegasus crew is one step above fraking convicts, who do we have over there that we can trust?"

"Not many I'm afraid. A handful of pilots, and a very small number of the command staff, three at most. Cain has the crew brainwashed into thinking she's all powerful, but trust me... she has weaknesses. Not many, but they're there. As a matter of fact, you may prove invaluable if we're to terminate her command."

"What does that mean?" asked Kara sceptically.

"You'll know at the right time, Captain." replied Horlach cutting her off. "She's going to be expecting you to return to Pegasus, and I'm sure you'll be called onto the carpet for disobeying her command to withdraw from the battle. After this cluster frak with Adama, she's going to be making her move against him soon, we don't have a lot of time to waste. This is a portion of what I have in mind." Former Police Officer, and now viper pilot Jon Horlach went over in detail what needed to be done. Much of it still needed to be ironed out, and time was now critical.

_**Colonial One**_** – Office of the President**

The tension in the small office was extremely palpable. Laura Roslin sat behind her desk reading over the individual logs of both her military officers on the recent attack. Cain and Adama sat apart from each other, the aisle separating them. Neither looked at the other, both were struggling to control their anger. Tasking off her glasses, she finally looked up.

"After reviewing both of your logs covering the last 24 hours, I'm not sure whether to be deeply saddened or furious over the breakdown in command." said Laura flatly. Cain rolled her eyes and sighed, not bothering to conceal her disdain. "Admiral Cain, is there something you wish to say?" asked the president.

"Madam president, let's cut through the felgercarb shall we?" began Cain. "Commander Adama, a _subordinate_ officer, launched a Marine fire team under the escort of two viper squadrons to board _my_ ship and illegally take custody of two prisoners in _my_ brig found guilty of murdering one of my officers." Cain spat the statement out like venom. Her voice loud and harsh.

"Be careful admiral, I'm not accustomed to being yelled at in _my_ own office aboard _my_ own ship! The fleet is protected by the military, but the military _still_ answers to the civilian government. I suggest you keep that fact in mind." Warned Laura, her eyes blazing as she continued on. "The subject of Lieutenant Thorne's death is a serious one, and I was under the impression that the two men accused of killing him would be given a full hearing."

"Under _unambiguous_ military protocol in a time of war, as the senior military officer present, I have the complete authority to convene a Courts martial, and upon hearing all evidence and testimony of the crime, have the authority to render a verdict. They were found guilty, and sentenced appropriately!" countered Cain.

"The war is over admiral... _we lost!_" interjected Adama dryly.

"No wonder you were given the command of an archaic Battlestar destined to become a floating educational ship. With that attitude, and the _Valkyrie_ incident, it's a wonder your weren't drummed out of the service." snapped Cain.

"Admiral Cain, despite Commander Adama's tone, he's absolutely correct. We are _not_ in a state of war, we haven't been since the day of the attacks against the colonies when the Cylons wiped out every warship in the Colonial Fleet. We _lost_ the war with the Cylons, and now we're running for our very lives to find safety. Absolute military tribunals are not only out of place in our current circumstance, but with the pitiful number of the human race that's left, every life lost is tragic!"

Cain shook her head in disbelief. "It's a wonder you two have survived this long. In all of my years in the service I have never witnessed a complete breakdown of military bearing that I've witnessed on _Galactica_.. And you, Madam President...I find it appalling that you would countenance such mediocrity in the command structure of the defense force tasked with your survival for so long."

"The two of you almost went to a shooting war over these men, two heavily-armed warships that are counted on for the protection of the fleet. What were you thinking?" she asked, now looking directly at Adama.

"I am not going to let two of my men be killed for an accidental death." charged Adama.

"Your men charged into _Galactica's_ brig, assaulted the guards, and then your deck chief deliberately threw Lt. Thorne against a bulkhead, which resulted in his immediate death. _I see no accident! _Lt. Thorne was there under my orders, interrogating a Cylon prisoner for vital information." yelled Cain.

"Lieutenant Thorne was sodomizing and beating a prisoner under the color of authority, that doesn't happen on any warship in Colonial Fleet...at least none with a commander with a sense of honor, and decency." added Adama acidly.

"Watch your tone commander, you're lucky you're not facing your own fraking warrant, _not yet that is!_" threatened Cain.

"Which brings me to my second point admiral, the withdrawal of the Pegasus during the attack." said Laura, letting the last part hang out there.

"Madam President, with all due respect...military operations _do not_ fall under the purview of you or the Quorum. You made that particular deal with Commander Adama yourself at Ragnar Anchorage if I'm not mistaken." pointed out Cain.

"Be that as it may Admiral Cain, past practice will show a genuine consociation between Commander Adama and his staff, and this office in military matters. While the last word, of course belonging to Commander Adama...he was always courteous enough to involve the office of the President, for alternate options."

"How populist!" countered Cain disdainfully. "I'm afraid Commander Adama and I have two entirely opposite views on command." Cain knew this was going nowhere, but in order for her to further her plan to remove Adama from her path she knew she would have to bend for the time being. She leaned back in her chair and sighed, fingers massaging her temples as if she was severely fatigued. "Alright, I'm willing to explore other options involving the punishment of Tyrol and Agathon, what would you suggest Madam President?" Laura was surprised by the reversal of the woman before her, but remained looking ahead impassively.

"Thank you Admiral, I'm pleased we can come meet somewhere in the middle. The incident took place on the _Galactica, _and it is there that they should be tried by a tribunal of no less than nine ship's captains. You each will be allowed to choose four judges, I will decide upon the ninth one."

Cain bolted up from her seat stone-faced. "Is that all, Madam President?"

"I'm afraid not admiral, there is still the matter of the Pegasus jumping away from the battle on your orders, while repair operations on a civilian ship were yet to be completed." stated Laura.

"That was a tactical decision, madam president...and one that was _mine_ to make. Three baseships were bearing down on our forces, our squadrons were heavily outnumbered and reinforcements were coming in from the Cylon outpost we were supposed to have attacked. I was not about to place the entire fleet in jeopardy by risking the only two battlestars left in existence for _one ship_ with a compliment of barely one hundred!"

"I find that explanation offensive and unacceptable Admiral. The fate of humanity rests on the shoulders of you two officers, every life is precious, and no ship is expendable. I trust this will be the last time something like this ever happens again." said Laura sternly.

"As you wish, Madam president." replied Cain turning on her heel, not waiting to be dismissed. The two remaining occupants of the room stared at each other silently for a moment. Laura broke the silence.

"That wound looks painful Bill, how do you feel?"

"I'll manage." grunted Adama sitting lower in his chair. Laura walked around her desk and sat in the seat Cain had just occupied. She turned to Adama, her face a mask of concern.

"Bill, she's out of control. It's only a matter of time before what little influence I have over her as president will disappear. She cannot be left in command of this fleet, she _is_ a danger!"

"I don't disagree with your assessment, but I don't have many alternatives." replied Adama.

"You've got to kill her!" Laura replied softly, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me Bill, you know it and I know it. She's a danger to this fleet, she doesn't believe in our quest to find Earth, she doesn't believe in civilian control over the military, and she certainly isn't going to allow you, me or anyone else to challenge her authority. I've heard the rumors about her desire to return to the Colonies, it's pure madness!"

"You don't know the half of it Madam President. There is far more to Admiral Cain's months missing in action, than are in her logs." replied Adama bluntly.

"Are you going to fill me in, or what?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"It depends on whether or not you're going to pour us a drink, because this is a long story." said Adama without smiling.


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52.

**Admiral Cain's Quarters **

Captain Kara Thrace stood ramrod straight at the position of attention in the center of the commanding officer's spartan quarters. Immediately upon arriving back on the Pegasus she was summoned to Cain's office by a Marine sergeant. She had barely completed her post flight checklist, and checked the names of those killed in the battle when summoned. Ever since her transfer to Pegasus, and subsequent promotion to CAG she had felt like an outsider among her fellow pilots. Kara "Destiny" Fan, and Marcia "Showboat" Case were probably two of the only pilots that had made her feel welcome. Cain had taken a special interest in her, she had originally felt a connection with Cain, but the recent revelations of her past had left her shaken. She felt like she had been standing there an eternity, sweat rolled down her back inside her flight leathers. The door to her small bedroom slid open, and Helena Cain stepped out, her uniform blouse unbuttoned at the collar, and sleeves rolled halfway up her arms.

"Stand at ease Captain." instructed Cain as she walked over to her desk to retrieve a clipboard. She stood reading the contents of the clipboard for just under a minute, taking a pen from the desk and making various notations on the sides of the paper. She finally looked up. "You ignored my direct orders Captain...explain yourself." said Cain sharply.

"The maximum range of an excuse is zero, sir!" replied Starbuck looking dead ahead.

"Felgercarb Captain. I want to know why, and I want you looking directly at me when you say it, understood?" ordered Cain.

"Permission to speak freely, Admiral?" asked Starbuck looking directly at her.

"You seem accustomed to doing so Thrace, so get on with it."

"I didn't agree with your decision to recall the air wing, and abandon the _Virgon Express_ and _Galactica,_ who was providing it cover."

"Would you have had us stay, risking the only two Battlestars left in the universe over one civilian ship?" asked Cain, carefully studying Starbuck's reaction to her comment.

"Yes sir, I would. The _Galactica_ took a beating to protect that ship!"

"Commander Adama would never have left anyone behind, even at the risk of his own crew and ship?"

"Absolutely sir."

"You care about William Adama very much don't you, as well as his son?" asked Cain as she stepped directly in front of her.

"Yes...I do. Commander Adama is like a father to me, there was a history between his son and I."

"Apollo?"

"No sir, Lee's brother Zac. We were engaged to be sealed before he died. That was a long time ago, ancient history."

"Is there room for anyone else in your life, Kara?" Cain's voice was much softer now, as she used the back of her fingers to gently push a strand of hair away from Kara's face. This was _not_ a side of Helena Cain she was expecting. "You are a beautiful, young woman of great intelligence, loyalty and perseverance Kara, traits I admire in a person." Her hand dropped to Kara's shoulder, from there she slowly ran the tips of her fingers down the length of her arm before continuing. "Out of respect for that loyalty to Adama I can overlook this infraction this _one time. _However, my loyalty and understanding have limits, regardless of my...personal feelings. You have a destiny Kara Thrace, one I hope to help shape in the days, weeks and months to come." Cain's proximity to her was unsettling, she stood nearly four inches taller than her, and Cain's eyes were those of a predator. For the first time in her life, Kara Thrace felt like the prey.

"Admiral... about Helo and the Chief?" asked Kara trying to change the subject. Cain stiffened up, she had preferred to stay on the subject at hand.

"After consultation with the President and Commander Adama, I have decided to be magnanimous and spare them the death penalty, their record of service to the fleet, especially since the attacks has been a good one. Their punishment will be determined by a full tribunal of ship's captains. Now... if you'll excuse me Captain, I have work to do, and so do you.

"Sir?"

"The assault on that Cylon outpost has been a delay at best. I _want_ that outpost, Thrace. Its fuel, its munitions, and whatever resources we can utilize for ourselves. If we plan to return to the colonies and kick some Cylon ass, this fleet needs to be ready!" Kara came to attention and saluted, Cain eyed her for what seemed like an eternity before returning the salute and dismissing her. The door slid shut, and Cain stared ahead deep in thought. "_Yes...very beautiful." _she said quietly.

_**Colonial One**_

"Bill, you have got to relieve her immediately!" Laura Roslin was beside herself with rage after Adama relayed the rumors of the Scylla, and other civilian ships under Cain's watch. "I'll see her spend the rest of her life on the prison barge!"

"There has been no verifiable proof of the atrocity, Laura. All there is is rumor, and I can bet my life that Fisk won't come forward to collaborate. We need to dig further before moving on this, Cain's crew is absolutely loyal to her, and you can bet _your_ life that she won't allow herself to be removed from command easily. When the time comes to act, it has to be meticulously planned out, swift...and final!" said Adama, emphasizing the last word.

"She turned her back on her duties as a military officer in a time of war by abandoning that civilian fleet, never mind conscripting members of their crew under threat of violence."

"I understand that, and when we're able to _prove_ the allegations, you have my word that she will be dealt with." reassured Adama. "I have to return to _Galactica_. Stay focused Laura."

**Pilot's Lounge – _Galactica_**

News of the commutation of Tyrol and Agathon's death sentence had spread throughout Galactica's air wing and deck crews to much elation. Both men were well liked, and now all speculation was about what their eventual punishment would be. The news was not welcome to many of the Pegasus pilots, who had been assigned to Galactica under Admiral Cain's integration orders. To many of them, Pegasus' chief interrogator was murdered by fellow Colonial officers trying to protect a Cylon prisoner.

Matthew Lensherr sat back with his legs on the chair opposite him, feet crossed at the ankles. A tall mug of stout, or what passed for it, sat in front of him. Two Pegasus pilots sauntered over to his table, their demeanor clearly indicated that they were in a foul mood. The shorter of the two men spoke up.

"That your _victory drink _Hephaestus?" he said menacingly. "You Galactica pukes seem overcome with joy that those two traitors got spared the death penalty for murdering Lt. Thorne. What's up with you fraking people, whose side are you on?"

"Laddie, I suggest you take yuir friend there, and go whine elsewhere. If yuir plannin to badmouth either o' those men on their own ship, than I think yuir lookin for trouble beyond yuir capabilities." responded Matt not moving an inch.

"Fraking Aerilonian, just as ignorant as the Tauron dirt eaters. From what I hear your man Agathon used to bang that little Cylon, knocked her up good. Whats more repulsive, is that none of you had the balls to _off him_ for fraternizing with the enemy. Maybe the rumors about this ship and her commander are true."

"_What rumors might that be, lieutenant?" _the voice belonged to Colonel Tigh, who stood next to Colonel Fisk.

"I believe Galactica's XO asked you a question, lieutenant! Snap to attention and answer the question...now!" ordered Fisk.

"Sir, we were just talking about those two traitors sitting in our brig." said the other pilot weakly.

"Colonel Tigh, I must apologize for my two officers, they seem unable to respond to a simple question from a superior officer. Perhaps you might have something for them to.. help them better their answers?" volunteered Pegasus' executive officer. Tigh looked directly at Lensherr.

"Captain Lensherr, I came down here to inform you that you have been appointed temporary CAG of the air wing of this ship, I trust you can find something for these...gentlemen to do." said Tigh gruffly.

"I'll see to it, colonel." replied Matt. Tigh shook hands with Matt, congratulating him on the temporary promotion. Colonel Fisk quickly followed suit. Turning to face his two men, Fisk spoke in an extremely low voice.

"The next time you to frak-wits decide to spread rumors about any officer aboard this ship, I'll personally see to it that you're both busted down to enlisted men, understood?"

"Yes sir!" the men replied in unison. Fisk turned to Lensherr and instructed him to carry on. Matt slowly turned towards the two pilots who were red with anger.

"You two officers can report to Chief Laird, I believe he has his hands full, bangin out all the divots and dents on the landing deck from all those combat landings we were forced to make after Pegasus decided to turn tail and run. _Dismissed!_"

After departing the pilot's lounge, the two executive officers had adjourned further down the hall to the pilot's briefing room, which was now empty. Walking over to the coffee pot, Tigh poured black coffee into two large mugs and casually pulled a flask out of his tunic, emptying a generous amount into each mug. He handed one to Fisk who nodded his approval. "What brings you over here, Jack?" asked Tigh taking a long pull from the chipped mug.

"I'll cut to the chase, Saul." began Fisk taking another swig of coffee. "We've known each other a helluva long time, graduated the academy together, and served on a warstar or two before getting our own Battlestars..." Tigh motioned him to get to the point quicker. "It's no secret that Adama and Cain don't see eye to eye on many things regarding this fleet, and its causing you and I to work a lot harder than we damned near should."

"That's our job as number two, Jack... you know that better than I do." replied Tigh.

"Yeah, yeah... make the old man look good and all that felgercarb. But seriously Saul, this recent conflict between the two ships over Tyrol and Agathon nearly caused an explosive situation, had not the Cylons chose that exact moment to attack us, might have doomed us all."

"Shine that spotlight back on your own commanding officer, Jack. Had she not decided to play judge, jury and executioner, all in one fell swoop we might have avoided all this. That felgercarb she pulled with Bill Adama over leaving him out of the entire process was low, the incident occurred on his own fraking ship! How do you square with that?"

"My relationship with Helena Cain is nowhere near as close as yours and Adama, Saul. Try not to judge me too harshly." explained Fisk holding out his mug for a refill.

"I know that Jack, and I also _know_ that you were really telling me the truth about what happened to your predecessor Belzen, back when we first discovered you guys alive." Fisk started to protest when Tigh help up his hand to cut him off. "Jack! I'm not fraking stupid, I've known you long enough to know that you just don't talk to hear the sound of your own voice. There can be only one fleet commander, and I think we both know who that should be."

"We off the record here Saul, I mean _truly off the record?"_

"We are!" he replied, handing him back the filled mug.

"I'll grant you that Bill Adama is a far easier commander to work for, but you have to realize something... Cain kept her crew alive for months, _without_ the support from a civilian fleet to feed us, recycle our waste, or R & R on a luxury liner. The crew is fiercely loyal to her, and wouldn't take too kindly to any... _adverse actions_ taken against her."

"I hope to the gods that isn't any kind of a threat, Jack!" warned Tigh.

"I make no threats, or assertions Saul...just speaking off the record." replied Pegasus XO. The two friends changed topic and Tigh put on another pot of coffee.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

William Adama poured over the daily reports handed to him by Petty officer Dualla, affixing his signature to numerous routine memorandums and maintenance reports. Ever since the arrival of Pegasus, Admiral Cain had insisted on better record keeping of vital goods and materials throughout the fleet. He was unsure if he should have felt offended at her constant requests for the most up-to-date information on what seemed to be a daily basis. For years, as Galactica's master, Adama had kept meticulous logs, as did most of the senior officers and enlisted who were responsible for the material. He was sure this was Cain's ongoing pattern of passive harassment. Nothing he couldn't handle. "Fuel consumption... again, Dee? Didn't I just sign this one?"

"That was two days ago, sir. Admiral Cain wants her update." said Dualla weakly. Adama started to say something, when he thought better of it and kept quiet. At this point it didn't matter, Cain would have her update. Dualla thanked him and quickly slipped away to her next signature.

It would be another hour before Colonel Tigh arrived in the CIC, one look and Adama knew that his XO had imbibed a little early. He waited until Tigh stepped up to the plotting table before saying anything. "Like I don't have enough on my plate, Saul." he said quietly.

"No worries Bill, I just had a few, enough to get Fisk's tongue loosened. His coffee was touched up far more times than my own."

"And how loose did his tongue get?"

"Enough. But not here, we're gonna have to finish this conversation in your quarters after the watch." Bill Adama knew that his executive officer was a highly functioning alcoholic, but after listening to him speak, knew that he was telling the truth about the amount he consumed. He knew Saul Tigh too well, and far too long.

"You take care of Lensherr?"

"He's been so informed. A good choice commander, I may question the kid's choice in women, but he's a good stick with a level head in combat. He'd make a good full time CAG."

"That reminds me... I promised the future Mrs. Lensherr that you'd give her a half hour interview for her piece on understanding diversity within the fleet." said Adama with a barely noticeable smile.

Tigh snorted and shook his head in mock disgust, "Everyone's a gods-damned humorist all of a sudden." growled Tigh as he motioned for a nearby ensign for a coffee. "_Black and bitter!" _Adama just smiled.


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53.

The 25 degree converging pattern provided an exceptional range of motion with consistent torque at the well-worn joint. The gymnasium aboard Pegasus provided a vast array of fitness and weight equipment for the crew, and this morning a group of Marines were patiently awaiting the current user to finish up his set on the incline press machine. Lee's upper pectoral muscles screamed at the punishment he was subjecting them to, his inner rage was barely self contained as he finished the last repetition of his set.

The weight was substantial, especially for a viper pilot. Normally, viper pilots were of medium height and build to fit within the snug confine of a cockpit. Several of the marines were visually impressed at the former Galactica CAG's workout. The routine was one that many of them used, but with far greater weight involved. Viper pilots weren't expected to be hands-on fighters, many weren't and were viewed as overpaid glory hounds safe from the death and dirty work of ground fighting that most Colonial Marines faced.

"You expectin to make a lateral transfer over to the Marines, or what lieutenant?" asked a corporal. Lee wiped the sweat from his face and pulled on a pair of weighted gloves to work the heavy bag.

"Negative corporal, knock a viper out of the sky and the pilot now becomes infantry. No excuse not to be prepared for the possibility." All but one of the marines were impressed with the reply, a tall black marine who went by the name Lucas let out a laugh as he dropped down into the seat of the incline press that Lee just vacated.

"What makes you so sure you'd even measure up to infantry standards, flyboy?" queried the marine, throwing all respect for the commissioned officer aside. If Lee Adama even noticed the flagrant disrespect to an officer from an enlisted man he didn't show it, the gymnasium was unofficially free of rank.

"Never heard of lowly viper jocks breaking the neck joints of hardened centurions during the first Cylon War?" shot back Lee throwing out a stiff left-handed jab to the heavy bag. "Guess you skipped the class back in high school history that mentioned the _Brenik _boarding by a squad of toasters in the second year of the war." Lee had thrown a few hard combinations at the hanging bag, while almost a foot shorter than the smallest marine present, it was clear that this viper pilot was no light weight when it came to dishing out punishment.

"Those were some pretty old models if I remember correctly, don't think you could pop the neck on one of the newer ones, especially with their heads encased in the armor itself, what then?"

Breathing heavily, Lee stopped and turned to reply. "If you're good with your weapons, then there's no need to ever get that close, but if so, jam your K-Bar in deep wherever you can find an opening and pray to the gods. Any other questions, marine?" said Lee, more statement than actual question. The senior marine recognizing Lee's obvious hint decided to get their rotating workout started.

"Alright, enough with the jawboning Lucas, we're workin out chest muscles, not tongue muscles, let's get this weight up already." Lee spent another fifteen minutes on the bag before the chronometer on the wall indicated he had thirty minutes to grab a shower, dress and report for duty. He took the towel off the hook and wiped the sweat from his face and neck as he strode out the gymnasium.

"Frakin daddy's boy!" snorted Lucas. "Cain busting him down to lieutenant, and shipping him off to a raptor brought him back down a peg or two."

"Tone it down Lucas, he's not your standard pretty boy viper jock. That look in his eye," paused the corporal, "pure, repressed rage. That man snaps, I guarantee he'll hurt whatever, or whoever is in his path."

"Well he ain't no marine!" argued Lucas, then again, I ain't so sure that the marines they got aboard Galactica deserve the title." The corporal just shook his head. Bad enough this man would disrespect a fellow member of the military, officer aside, it was reprehensible he would so callously disrespect his fellow Colonial Marines. There was a growing divide between crew members of the Galactica and Pegasus, and no good could come from that.

**CAG's Quarters – Battlestar _Pegasus_**

"Sorry I'm late, you wanted to see me." said Lee standing outside the open hatchway. Kara looked up at the chronometer with annoyance.

"Fifteen seconds late? Be sorry _and_ ready with a fumarello when you're fifteen _minutes_ late Lee!" said Kara kicking out a chair she had her feet on in order for Lee to sit down. "This punctuality felgercarb is grating on my nerves."

"Heavy is the uniform that holds the CAG's rank, isn't it?" mocked Lee all in good humor. Kara gestured to the door, and Lee tipped back on the rear legs of the chair to reach over and slam the hatch shut.

"Lee, she's going ahead with a raid on that outpost!"

"What! The element of surprise is gone, the Cylons will be waiting for us the moment we clear that asteroid field, those of us that actually survive it." said Lee angrily. "Has my father weighed in on the matter?"

"I doubt she even bothered to consult him. She's like a woman possessed, she won't stop til she gets what she wants." explained Kara. "I'm to come up with a plan for her, and for the first time in my life I have no idea where to begin. It's suicide of course! Like you said, the element of surprise is gone, we have to traverse an asteroid field to get there, and the field is a challenge to the best pilots, never mind the nuggets."

"And by now they outpost commander is sure to have called in even more reinforcements than the Baseships they already have on station." offered Lee.

Kara just buried her head in the palms of her hand and replied, "this just keeps getting better and better."

**Admiral Cain's quarters**

"Look Jack, I'm tired of dealing with this issue. Find which civilian ship has the items we need and just send a retrieval team over there." said Cain bluntly.

"There's bound to be push back." replied Fisk. Cain angrily slammed down the pen she was writing with and looked up.

"I don't give a frak what a bunch of civilians like or dislike, the Battlestars are priority needs, anyone has a problem with it, lock em up, or put em up against a bulkhead. Enough with this felgercarb!" shouted Cain loud enough for the marine detail outside her door to clearly hear. "Now, what have you got from Sarnex?"

"He reports that security has been beefed up around Adama all of a sudden. He thinks that Adama feels his position is threatened, and that you may try to forcibly relieve him from command."

"Good, let him be paranoid. I'll deal with him as it suits my pleasure. Keep Sarnex sniffing about, tell him I want names of those who could be considered friendly or hostile to a command change."

"You're going forward with "Case Orange" then?" asked Fisk, referring to the operational code name for the removal of William Adama from command.

"In due time, Jack. Adama is obviously paranoid if he's increasing his private security. Let him worry about when the blade will fall for the time being. I'll take him out at the right moment, now... if you have nothing further..." this wasn't a question, this was Cain signaling the end of the discussion. Jack Fisk exited her quarters.

_**Cylon Basestar**_

Cavil was seething with barely contained rage. Two Battlestars well within his grasp, yet they both escaped, along with the civilian fleet. He had been tracking the Pegasus for weeks now, as the Mercury class Battlestar and its bold commander wreaked havoc on Cylon supply lines. Cain had been staging guerrilla strikes on fuel and supply convoys across half a dozen sectors. The loss in Cylon assets were staggering by this lone ship, and he wanted it. He wanted it, and its commander badly. The bulk of the Cylon fleet had been spread out throughout the galaxy, in search of the elderly Galactica and her rag tag fugitive fleet, and just two days ago, they were all within his grasp. Since first encountering the Pegasus and her raiding tactics weeks after the destruction of the colonies, this particular Cavil had one mission, to engage the Pegasus and destroy her and let the other Basestars go after the remaining humans, they would eventually be found and exterminated. He had dispatched dozens of heavy raiders to jump into nearby sectors in search of the humans, none had discovered them yet.

"The last of the heavy raiders have reported in Cavil, none have had success locating the human fleet." reported Doral as he withdrew his hands from the data stream.

"_We had them in our grasp!_" hissed Cavil. "Both Pegasus and Galactica...ours for the mutilating, and what happens? They get away, _all of them_."

"How they even discovered our outpost is a relevant query." stated Simon flatly. "That outpost was well-hidden, and logic would dictate that the humans will try to attack it again. The tylium supplies are too tempting a target for them to ignore."

"I don't really give a flying frak _how_ they discovered our outpost, as I am about _why_ our superior forces couldn't destroy them." rebuked Cavil.

"Perhaps you'd like to register a complaint with the Imperious Leader, Cavil." said a female of the three series sarcastically.

"I'm heartened by your capacity for humor Three, but unfortunately the escape of the fugitives ultimately will endanger us all. I doubt you'll be so flippant when they stretch your pretty little neck someday in the future after they regroup, rebuild their fleets and find away to defeat our resurrection ability. However I must agree with four's assessment, the fleet will no doubt return for the tylium at our outpost," said the One series humanoid Cylon. "I mean it's not like there's a Colonial fueling station this far out from the colonies."

**Command Center - Freighter _Gemeni_**

On the far side of the fleet, the freighter _Gemeni _prepares to receive two Raptors from the flagship of the fleet. One Raptor is empty, save for the pilot and ECO, the other holds a dozen heavily-armed _Pegasus_ Marines. With the raptors on final approach, the mood in the command center is tense.

"What do they want now?" asked the second-in-command.

"The Gods only know," replied the exasperated captain. "You'd think Cain would have been content with the two cases of Scorpion Mash Genuine that she commandeered the last time she visited. Alright, no sense in getting ourselves worked up about this... let's just get it over with."

"_Why don't you go to the Quorum, or the President, even?_" whispered the second in command.

"What would that accomplish, other than pissing off Cain! It's becoming pretty obvious that she's of a different mold than Adama. To think that I'd get pissed off with the road blocks that Adama occasionally threw in our side operation's path. Compared to Cain, Adama is a delight to deal with." replied the captain. "You have the deck, I'll go greet our visitors." The Libran captain exited the command center and descended the four decks to the hanger bay. Behind a twelve inch thick piece of shatter-proof glass, he watched as the raptors maneuvered into the small bay. Within minutes, the hanger was re-pressurized, and he walked over to the hatch leading below. Colonel Jack Fisk stepped off the raptor, followed by the Marine detail. He immediately recognized the freighter's captain, and walked over to where he was standing.

"Good afternoon captain, thank you for seeing us on such short notice." said Fisk entirely without any hint of cordiality.

"Colonel Fisk, always a pleasure. What can _Gemeni_ do for you?" replied the captain nervously, as he offered his hand to the military officer before him. Fisk merely glanced down at the offered hand, and then spoke up.

"Our records indicate that you have four model 218- Alpha energizers in your inventory." said Fisk flatly.

"Why... yes, that is correct."

"They, along with the six you have concealed, and off your inventory list, are to be transferred to the _Pegasus_ immediately."

"Colonel...I assure you, we have only the four energizers in stock, and those are of vital importance to the operation of this vessel." argued the freighter's captain.

"Where is your executive officer, captain?" demanded Fisk.

"Why...he's in the command center of course." stammered the captain. Fisk turned to the senior marine and nodded. The large lieutenant pushed the much smaller civilian captain against a bulkhead and proceeded to place him is restraints. "_What are you doing?" _he yelled, his shrill voice echoing off the small walls of the hanger bay. "_You can't arrest me, I'm the captain of this ship!_"

"Captain Mandell, you are hereby relieved of command of the _Gemeni_." announced Fisk. "You are under arrest for illegally conspiring to conceal vital goods in time of war, and failure to comply with a command from the Admiral of this fleet. Your executive officer will assume command of this vessel, and you will be transferred to the detention center aboard the flagship until your hearing."

"_I demand to talk to Adama!"_

"_Commander _Adama is _not_ in command of this fleet, and it is in your best interest to demand _nothing_ at this time." replied Fisk sharply. Two marines escorted the former captain back aboard the raptor, and Fisk turned towards his marine lieutenant. "Lieutenant, get up to the command center with these six marines and inform the new captain of the situation." Fisk counted off six marines. "I want _all_ of those energizers, and if he gives you any felgercarb about there being only four, than remind him where his former captain now sits, and that the same will happen to him."

"Aye aye, Colonel." replied the officer with a salute. Fisk turned towards the two junior marines and ordered them to post at the entrance to the hanger. That left two specific marines left. "Corporal Thomas and Clarke, why don't you two take a walk and see what else might strike our fancy," said Fisk with a slight smile. "The _Gemeni _freightermay not be the _Prometheus_, but she's got some serious goods making the rounds here." said Fisk referring to the freighter Prometheus that was a black market haven. Within a week of Pegasus' arrival, Jack Fisk made his presence known to the hierarchy of the fleet's illegal black market, a dangerous man named Phelan. He had already procured numerous goods and services that he used to bribe officials in high places. Clarke and Thomas were his eyes and ears, and more importantly, his muscle.

Within the hour, ten Caprican-made 218- Alpha energizers were being loaded into Pegasus Raptor 4, along with the former captain of the _Gemeni_ freighter who sat quietly, and manacled between two large marines. Clarke and Thomas' scouting mission produced a case of extremely rare _Folioles_, a brand of cigars that had been 'confiscated' from the former captain's personal stateroom. Also forcibly obtained under the guise of security, was a twelve inch dagger crafted on the colony _Leonis. _An intricate carving of the father of the gods, Zeus himself, adorned the handle, which was made from the tusk of an animal long extinct even before the Cylons wiped out the colonies. Prior to the destruction of the colonies, such a rare weapon would have fetched a price of nearly 80,000 cubits. The owner of the dagger was unwilling to part with his prized possession, at least not until the business end of the marine's assault weapon was roughly forced into the man's mouth and a countdown to firing had begun.

"Not a bad haul men," remarked Fisk quietly. "I'll keep two boxes of the Folioles and the dagger, and you two can split the remainder of the Folioles amongst yourselves." The case had contained twelve individual boxes of twenty cigars, so that left each marine five cartons apiece. They would no doubt barter those treasures off for other rare items that caught their fancy. Jack Fisk was ambitious and greedy, but knew to keep his two pet marines happy whenever the score was big.


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54.

The secure message from Starbuck was not a welcome one, not welcome at all. Matt had thought the op was permanently scrubbed due to the loss of the crucial "element of surprise." Even with both Battlestar's complete air wings, the deck was stacked highly against success. Sitting in the cockpit of his fighter, Matt spot checked the new control board that had recently been installed for his weapons system. Peter Laird was still sending a steady stream of badly needed supplies over to Galactica, parts that were extremely rare, and up until recently, had been patched up as best as possible by Galen Tyrol's deck gang with whatever materials they could cobble together. This control panel was taken fresh out of the bubble wrap packaging it was put in by the long destroyed manufacturer.

It was a stroke of incredible luck that the Pegasus was dry docked for a retrofit when the Cylons attacked, just a day before the attack, they had taken on a massive shipment of parts and equipment for their viper and raptor squadrons. Many of their crew were off on leave when the attack commenced, leaving far more aircraft then pilots to fly them. Immediately after assessing Galactica's air wing shortages, Admiral Cain shipped forty Mk. VII vipers, and six raptors to address their shortage. Her online viper production facilities would slowly continue to turn out vipers, but were running dangerously low on metals for the fuselage, and tylium. Matt's daydreaming was soon disrupted by the sound of knocking on the port wing of his viper.

"A cubit for your thoughts, Heph." The voice belonged to Kara "Destiny" Fan, she wore a pair of running pants with Pegasus' logo embroidered on the hip. Her short black hair was slicked back with sweat, and her a towel draped across her shoulders.

"Afraid I'd be short changin ya, lass." replied Matt pulling himself up to sit on the rim of the cockpit. "Just goin over some new equipment, courtesy of Pete Laird."

"We really haven't had a chance to shoot the felgercarb since finding each other, gods know I've logged some ear-bleeding moments with Roadkill, but you and I seem to keep missing each other."

"Sorry Kara, things have been crazy since the transfers, the abandoned op and now me recent promotion to CAG...been runnin about like a chicken wit its bloody head sliced off."

"How does your girlfriend feel about that?" shot back Kara with a playful smile.

"If yuir speakin bout D'Anna, then she's handlin it just fine. She's plenty busy herself, more so now that Pegasus has joined the fleet." Matt could sense there was something more than just small talk, Destiny frequently scanned the catwalk above them, and her surroundings, as if she was being watched. He hopped down onto the wing, and lowered himself to the floor, a foot or so between them. "Whats on yuir mind, lass? You've never been one for small talk." She immediately became more relaxed, and spoke softly.

"Whats going on with the outpost op? Rumor mill has it that it's on again." she asked. Matt frowned, how did word get out already he _just_ found out an hour ago. As far back as the academy, Matt knew that Destiny was well wired into the rumor mill, and that she had a knack for obtaining all sorts of information, especially the hard-to-get kind.

"All I can tell you is that Cain wants a second bite at the frakin apple." replied Matt tersely. "Not sure what's runnin through her mind, but if ya ask me... I think she's frakin daft to attempt another run. The element of surprise is lost to us, we should be jumpin to the next system and pray that we find a planet containing Tylium."

"All the refined fuel, materials and raw tylium is right there on that outpost for the taking, Heph. Cain has been doing hit and runs on these type of remote outposts since the attacks. Just another walk in the park."

"Yes... _remote outposts_." repeated Matt. "Not ones protected by Baseships, and the probability of more jumpin in to join the party! Think about it lass, one ,we're badly outnumbered, two, we have a deadly asteroid field to traverse, eating up fuel and most likely the lives of many of our pilots. Lastly, what about the fleet? What happens to them if more Cylons show up while the two Battlestars are engaged in the op?"

"Tough one to answer, Heph. Babysitting a civilian fleet isn't something the crew of the Pegasus has been used to. We're used to moving hard and fast, this is so different, and at times aggravating."

"_Aggravating!" _said Matt taken aback. "Listen to yuirself Kara, yuir talkin about whats left o' the human race. It's our _duty_ to protect them, to ensure they survive in order to reach Earth and repopulate whats left of humanity."

"Don't get your underwear in a twist Matt, you know I don't mean any disrespect. However, I'm sure you've heard that Cain isn't warm to the idea of finding the mythological home of the lost thirteenth tribe. She wants to go _back_ to the Colonies to kick their metallic asses off our worlds."

"Please tell me you haven't been suckered into that fairytale," said Matt shaking his head. "The Colonies are an irradiated wasteland, and you _know_ that! We can go back with one hundred Battlestars, and do ya think it'll make a wee bit o' difference."

"Not a side to you that I'm accustomed to seeing." said Kara.

"Kara, think about it for a moment...Cain's way will get us all killed, every last one of us. Finding Earth, or any other habitable world is our only hope o' surviving." He could see a weakening in her defenses, it was time to take a chance and see much. "Kara...Cain is dangerous. You _must_ see that!" Kara's face reddened as she moved closer to just within inches Of Matt.

"Heph, all throughout the academy I strove to be the best viper pilot, to graduate number one, something, by the way, you screwed me out of. All I wanted was to get assigned to _Pegasus_, under Helena Cain. It was a dream come true, assigned to the most sought after battlegroup on board the flagship itself. When the Cylons hit us at the Scorpion shipyards it was Cain who saved us with quick action. With two nukes bearing down on , she ordered a blind fraken jump. _Blind! _You realize what a set that takes?" asked Kara. "Seriously Heph, she saved her ship, her crew and then took the fight right back at them."

"I know the back story Kara, and to set the record straight... I _earned_ the top slot at the academy. Be that as it may, we're talkin bout yuir commanding officer now. I mean it lass, there's a fundamental difference between Cain and Adama, and the safety of this fleet hinges on _who_ commands it!" Kara's demeanor quickly changed, and she studied Matt's face intently.

"What are you talking about Matt?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Cain _is_ the commander of this fleet."

"Kara, if she remains in command of this fleet then we're all doomed. She's reckless, and has no regard for the people that depend on us to protect em."

"You're treading dangerously Matt, the wrong person hears you and Cain will throw your ass in the same cell as Helo and your former deck chief." warned Kara.

"I'm not fraking around here Kara, I need you to think long and hard about where yuir allegiance lies. In time it may be called on." Without another word, Matt turned and walked off the hanger bay, leaving Lt. Kara "Destiny" Fan utterly speechless.

**Commander Adama's Quarters**

William Adama stretched himself flat on his leather couch, one of the few cherished personal items that adorned his quarters. He had taken an early dinner in his quarters which sat on his desk relatively untouched. Processed algae...again. His glasses lay atop his chest as he attempted to steal a moment's rest. The knock at the hatch announced that that was surely not going to happen. "_Enter!_" he snapped, mildly annoyed at the intrusion. The hatch swung open, and in stepped his executive officer with a concerned look on his craggy face.

"We got problems, Bill!" announced Tigh walking over to one of the overstuffed chairs opposite the desk that were reserved for visitors. Sitting down he reached over and lifted the lid off the tray holding Adama's uneaten dinner, a frown fixed itself to his face, and he replaced the cover.

"Well if you're hand delivering the news to me instead of manning your shift in the CIC, then it's either very important, or off ship." said Adama rubbing his eyes.

"Both. It looks like the bitch is at it again." growled Tigh. Inside of five minutes Tigh related the story of the "appropriated" Caprican-made 218- Alpha energizers from the _Gemeni freighter_. The Black Market was an open secret throughout the fleet, and largely ignored by the military authority as long as they kept their business discreet. Adama had frequently caught an earful from the president, as she was clearly displeased by the market, feeling that the members of the fleet should be above such actions while fleeing for their very lives. She was usually more displeased when Adama would reply that the Black Market was a needed element within their current situation, and her idealism while admirable, was misplaced in their current predicament.

Massaging his temples, Adama exhaled loudly, not needing another headache added to his list. "What did Fisk charge Mandell with?"

"Illegally conspiring to conceal vital goods in time of war, and failure to comply with a command from the Admiral of the fleet if you can believe that." retorted Tigh with disgust.

"Look we both know your friend Fisk's hands aren't exactly "Temple clean," but we also know that he doesn't have the authority himself to remove a civilian ship captain. This is Cain pure and simple."

"What do you want done?"

Adama chuckled and sat up, adjusting his tunic. "What can I do? Helena Cain is the fleet commander, she _does_ have the authority to remove Mandell, but usually through a process, and more importantly with presidential input, seeing as how no state of martial law has been enacted."

"Word has it that Cain doesn't even accept Roslin's calls anymore." replied Tigh. "Look I'm no fan of the school marm, but she _is_ the legal president of the colonies through succession. How far are we going to let Cain go?" Tigh put up his hand to cut off Adama's reply saying "look Bill, lets cut through the felgercarb, Cain has got to have her fraken wings clipped, or this fleet will tear itself apart!"


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55.

**Admiral Cain's Quarters – 1830 hours**

The highly-polished black table top reflected the two candles brilliantly, two intricately carved silver candlestick holders were the centerpiece. The fine, white bone china was trimmed with the same silver as the candlestick holders, mined from the southern hemisphere of _Caprica _over six decades earlier were neatly placed before the only two chairs at the table. Starbuck had arrived a half hour earlier with the plans for an operation, she was expecting a working dinner, she was taken aback by the dimmed light, and soothing setting of Cain's private quarters. No other staff officers were present much to her surprise, she thought for sure Cain would want their input as well.

"I hope you're hungry Thrace," announced Cain by way of a greeting. "My chef is fixing up a very unique dish for us tonight." Helena Cain was almost a full foot taller than Starbuck, her straight, long black hair was tied back with a viridian ribbon, her duty uniform, as usual was immaculate She walked over to a sideboard and poured two glasses of amber-colored liquid holding one out to her dinner guest. Starbuck took the small glass, surprised by its weight. Taking a sip, her eyes widened at the quality of the alcohol, its heat slowly traveling down her throat.

"Leonis Brandy?" asked Starbuck astonished.

"Impressive," smiled Cain. "You do know your alcohol." Cain took a sip from her glass and gestured to Starbuck to sit down. Starbuck nervously nodded and walked over to the table, she sat down and then immediately stood, pulling a few inches of the back of her duty tunic out from her waistband in order to sit down comfortably.

"You are arguably the best viper pilot in the fleet, your record shows that you're an above average tactician, and unlike my previous CAG, you've got a razor's edge and aren't afraid to use it. The two of us are very much alike, Thrace. Strong women accustomed to getting what they want, forced to assume roles due to the inability of others. It sickens me to think how male-dominated the fleet was, when there were plenty of better qualified women to be placed in command positions. You must have chafed at being a mere squadron leader aboard Galactica, you should have been CAG."

"I didn't mind at all sir, Lee is an excellent stick, and a tremendous CAG, it was an honor for me to serve with him."

"Lee Adama may be an 'excellent stick,' but I've read his jacket in great detail... his leadership skills seem to be at their best when he's disobeying orders, or committing treason." Starbuck winced inwardly.

The two sat down opposite each other, and an ensign soon entered with a large tray, followed by another ensign with a smaller tray. Both were obviously of the same set as the fine, bone china. The dinner was indeed unique, a consommé was the first course. Starbuck couldn't even begin to guess where Cain's chef found the almost non-existent ingredients to create the clear soup. No doubt from the fleet's black market. The main course was a small amount of some kind of highly seasoned animal meat over algae, a dish that once you couldn't feed to a house-trained daggit, but now people would barter dearly for, or fight over, especially after sustaining themselves on Tellon Egg noodles and algae. Any kind of meat was near non-existent after the first two months of fleeing the colonies, Starbuck started to feel slightly guilty. The brandy glasses were replaced with wine glasses, and after filling both glasses with a three year old ambrosia from _Tauron, _the ensigns departed, leaving the two women alone.

After dinner, and with the plates cleared from the table, Helena Cain and her CAG went over the battle plan for attacking the outpost. It was almost midnight by the time they finished, and Pegasus' commander was highly pleased. "You've outdone yourself Thrace, this is amazing. Not even Fisk would have come up with something half as good, he doesn't have the balls." Starbuck couldn't help but laugh. "What Thrace, you agree?

"Not my place to say, sir."

"Felgercarb! Jack Fisk would never have reached the number two spot aboard a Battlestar in normal times. A Warstar maybe, but Battlestar... if it wasn't for my original executive officer disobeying a direct command on the day of the Cylon attack that threatened the safety of this ship, he wouldn't be where he is today, trust me. Fisk is a gluttonous sadist, he thinks I don't know how deep he's involved in the fleet's black market, but let me assure you... there is very little I don't know of that goes on aboard this ship, _or Galactica." _Starbuck was unsure if the added emphasis on her former ship was a thinly veiled message to her, or what, but her face remained a mask. They had gone through another bottle of ambrosia as they went over minor details of the op, making changes where appropriate.

"Sir, when will we be able to discuss this with Commander Adama and Hephaestus?" she soon asked.

"As this plan currently stands I'm quite satisfied, but naturally Commander Adama's input would be welcome. However, I'm not quite sure what to make of Hephaestus as Galactica's CAG. He's young, and his record is exemplary, but there's something about him I can't put my finger on." noted Cain.

"Sir, if I may..." began Starbuck. Cain reached over and gently put a finger to Starbuck's lips, cutting off the remainder of her sentence.

"Thrace..._Kara_, in this office you don't have to stand on ceremony, and your opinion is always valued, and _expected_. Like I said, we're two sides of the same coin, officers such as ourselves are rare in the military, always have been. Your mother was such a person!" This brought Starbuck up short.

"My mother?"

"Yes, she retired at sergeant major from the Colonial Marine Corps, very few women reach that rank and level in that neanderthal environment. As I was assessing your record when considering you for CAG, I wanted to know everything about you professionally, but also personally. Commander of my air group is but a small step in your future Kara, you're capable of so many things, and that scares people. People like that knuckle-dragging drunk, Saul Tigh. If I thought the knock down drag out with Adama would be worth it, I would relieve that son of a bitch as Galactica's executive officer." Again, this drew another smile to Starbuck's face as she looked down at the table. "Stop worrying about these men and focus on yourself. You're a razor, you're highly intelligent, and beautiful. Without warning, Cain gently lifted Starbuck's chin, leaned over and gently kissed her.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"Good morning Commander, you're in early." noted Captain Aaron Kelly, the third watch commander. It was at least an hour before the change of shift, and the halls of Galactica were still lit at night-time settings to simulate the change of night and day.

"Couldn't sleep very well captain, I thought you'd appreciate an early relief. Anything of interest?" asked Adama as he held out his hand for the logbook and nuclear keys.

"Thank you sir," replied Kelly. "All is quiet, we have Nightstalker and Destiny flying CAP along with Sleepwalker and Betty in Raptor 4. The bitch line from ship commanders is surprisingly quiet, and dradis has had zero contacts."

"Thank you Captain Kelly, you stand relieved of the watch." Adama looked around the CIC, the men and women who made up this secured room went about their duties with the utmost professionalism. He was extremely proud of his crew. An ensign quickly appeared at his side with a tall, well-worn ceramic mug with the call sign HUSKER etched in gold leaf. The strong aroma of coffee wafted from the lid as he turned to receive it. "Thank you ensign." The coffee blend was a dark roast Aerilonian strong brew, a gift from his executive officer on his last birthday just before the Cylon attack. There was perhaps another 3 week supply at best in his quarters, and sadly, the coffee making talent in the fleet was found wanting. The coffee assaulted his senses in a very welcome way, he needed to clear his head for the day ahead of him. He wasn't looking forward to having to deal with the inevitable drawing in of the _Gemeni Freighter_ issue. Nor was he looking forward to his meeting later on in the day with Admiral Cain, to discuss the on again, off again attack operation for the Cylon outpost. While he had no doubt about Starbuck's piloting abilities, or her out-of-the-box tactical thinking, as evidenced by her recent performance when called to that task, he felt that another crack at this outpost was extremely risky. The Cylons were aware of their presence in this system, and no doubt would be prepared for them. His thoughts were interrupted by the Dradis warning, he spun around to the tactical station where a lieutenant was working his keyboard.

"Dradis contacts bearing 478 carom 221, just outside our security envelope and holding current vector."

"Order the CAP to intercept and identify, and bring the ship to action stations." ordered Adama. "Notify the flagship that we'll be launching alert fighters."

**Raptor 4 – Combat Air Patrol**

Junior Lieutenant Niko "Sleepwalker" Stratos was filling in for the regularly assigned Racetrack as ECO. A newly minted officer who had never before served in the ranks of the Colonial armed forces. At the time of the fall he was in his late 20s. An honest smuggler of the 12 colonies, and a loner. Stratos was one of the rare smugglers who stayed away from the trafficking of human slaves, especially children, which was sadly in high demand in some of the seediest parts of the colonies. His shuttle, christened Dragonfly, had many modifications designed to withstand in-atmosphere FTL. After the attacks, his shuttle was located, and soon commandeered by the _Pegasus_.

He made a deal with Cain to keep possession of his shuttle in exchange for his cooperation during the stripping of the civilian vessels they came across. Cain, who could never abide pirates or smugglers, insisted he become a commissioned officer if he was going to serve under her command, a commission he quickly accepted. He had been part of one of Cain's first transfers of pilots to Galactica, and in short time had developed a close bond with many of the pilots, especially Nina Nintius. The incoming communication over the secured frequency confirmed what his own dradis scan revealed. He turned to his pilot, "Betty, incoming message from the Bucket... we have unidentified contacts bearing 478 carom 221 and holding. Orders are to intercept and identify."

Nina Nintius opened the frequency that the CAP was operating on and depressed the transmit button on her cyclic and spoke up. "Time to earn our cubits folks, dradis contacts bearing 478 carom 221, intercept and identify...over."

"_Nightstalker receives."_

"_Destiny receives...turning and burning, 478 carom 221." _The two vipers banked high and right in unison as they engaged their turbos. On Stratos' computer screen, the two vipers were illustrated by green icons, and the dradis contacts were designated light blue. Hostile contacts were usually designated with a red icon. The Raptor served as an Airborne warning & control and electronic countermeasures platform supporting viper operations, and in some cases acted as armed pickets to augment an attack force.

Lt. Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex peered down at his dradis screen, they were closing the distance rapidly from the target's five o'clock position. His scanners immediately picked up Cylon IFF transponders, identifying them as hostiles. Their light blue icons immediately turned red. _"Raptor 4, Nightstalker...contacts positively identified as Cylon attack craft... over."_

"Nightstalker, Raptor 4...you are authorized to engage and destroy immediately... over." replied Nina Nintius over the comline. Turning to her ECO, Nina instructed Sleepwalker to jam the Cylon's transmissions, and alert Galactica and Pegasus of the situation.

**Combat Information Center – Battlestar _Pegasus_**

"Colonel Fisk, the CAP is reporting contact with two Cylon raiders, they are engaging them now." reported the communications officer.

"Just two raiders, lieutenant?"

"Aye sir, Galactica has launched alert vipers, and should arrive on station to back up the CAP in four minutes."

"Tactical, set condition one throughout the fleet." ordered the executive officer calmly. The responding alert vipers and CAP should be more than sufficient to deal with two raiders, I want our own squadrons held hot in the tubes for the time being." The computer-generated klaxon sounded immediately, it was twenty minutes prior to reveille, and most crew members assigned to Pegasus were conditioned to normally be up and ready prior to the announcing of reveille.

In Admiral Cain's private quarters, Kara Thrace leaped to her feet only to immediately regret doing so. Her head was throbbing, and it took her all of three seconds to realize she wasn't in her own quarters, but still in Admiral Cain's who was already gone and en route to CIC to relieve her executive officer. Several empty bottles of ambrosia were on the table, and the black dress she had worn the night before not-so-carefully placed over the foot board of the bed. Trying to push a thousand thoughts from her slowly-clearing mind, Starbuck strained to hear the announcement over the ship's public address system. Cylons! She looked around for her duty uniform, and hastily pulled on the pants and high-gloss boots. Running for the door she was buttoning up her tunic when the sensors, who detected the motion opened the doors to the outside hallway. Kara had run through buttoning the top two buttons when she ran straight into a very surprised Lee Adama who was just returning from an errand to the CIC on behalf of the deck chief.

"Kara...?" asked Lee, awkwardly looking at Cain's now closing door and then the chronometer on his wrist.

"Mind your fraking business, Apollo!" snapped Kara. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was to explain this to her friend. She wasn't even sure what she'd even say to him even if they weren't responding to action stations. Lee just arched an eyebrow and followed Starbuck down to the lower decks to report to their vipers.

The two raiders flipped end over end in unison, now facing their surprised pursuers. 30mm rounds erupted from the raider's kinetic energy weapons. Both vipers rolled effortlessly out of the way and and reformed as the raiders streaked past their former positions. While Colonial technology was technically inferior to Cylon, the Mk. VII viper in the hands of a skilled pilot was more than a match for the bio-mechanical raider. Nightstalker released the safeties on his KEWS and watched as the targeting computer attempted to lock onto the raider. The bat-like fighter flipped and flopped making a lock difficult. Within seconds, the targeting computer found its mark and locked onto the raider, broadcasting a satisfying high-pitched tone for the pilot. Depressing the trigger on his joystick, Nightstalker unleashed a blistering barrage of cannon fire that sheared off the right wing of the raider causing it to flip uncontrollably end over end until a follow up shot destroyed it completely.

"_Splash one bandit!"_ called out Nightstalker over the comline.

Raptor four was monitoring the dogfight, and incoming alert fighters from their home ship. A new set of contacts suddenly appeared on the dradis, two Cylon Basestars.

"Galactica, Raptor 4...be advised, we have two Basestars entering the system...CBDR at 166 carom 449." A new set of signals now appeared, both Cylon capital ships were launching their entire raider compliment.

**Combat Information Center - _Pegasus_**

Admiral Cain had just arrived shortly after Fisk ordered action stations and assumed command after a brief sitrep. The communications officer awaited the launch command, and was genuinely surprised when Cain ordered the opposite. "Lieutenant Hoshi, hold our own air wing, and signal Commander Adama to issue an immediate recall!" ordered Cain. Fisk who was still at her side looked surprised.

"I'm not very keen on retreating Jack, but I want that outpost more, and don't want to prematurely engage the enemy until it's on our terms. We're outnumbered, no sense in risking vipers or the Battlestars." stated Cain. Galactica's vipers returned safely, and within minutes the entire fleet jumped to standby coordinates to escape the incoming Cylon attack force.

A day after escaping the Cylons, Admiral Cain had summoned Adama to the Pegasus to review Starbuck's attack plan. Betty and Sleepwalker were tasked with transporting him over to the flagship. Two very large, and mean looking Colonial Marines were present in the hanger preparing to board with their commander. 1st Sgt Danny Wallers had been reassigned to Adama's protective detail immediately after learning that there was a potential for Admiral Cain to try and move against Adama. Pfc Merv Hamilton, a former law enforcement officer made up the other half of the detail. Saul Tigh had insisted that the senior NCO immediately replace one of the two junior marines tasked with protection, and much to William Adama's irritation, the dour executive officer paced back and forth in front of the Raptor grumbling under his breath.

"Saul, do you mind stopping the pacing, you're wearing a path in the deck." said Adama dryly.

"I don't know how you can be so flip Bill, you've got to be out of your gods damned mind going over to that slaughterhouse!" groused Tigh.

"That's what I have these two giants for." replied Adama, motioning to the two Marines standing off to the side. "Seriously Tigh, she's the fleet commander, and you sure as hell don't think she's going to hop on over here every time there's a meeting. She's not going to change her mind about this op, and I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and just play a supportive role in this without scrutinizing every aspect of the op. Knowing Starbuck, she's come up with some off the wall plan that's bound to get Cain's underwear in a bunch."

"Then do me this favor," said Tigh quietly. "Take _this_ as a back up." He held out a small 4 barreled _Stallion, _a non-military issued sidearm.

"Where did you get this relic?" asked Adama checking to see if it was loaded.

"Don't ask, just stash it on you someplace safe." Adama frowned and after ensuring the safety was on, placed the small weapon in his waistband and pulled out a little extra material of his tunic to cover it. Nina Nintius had witnessed the conversation and Stallion and jumped down off the wing of her raptor. She approached the two men.

"Don't worry Colonel, between that Stallion, the two gorillas over there and me, anybody even looks the wrong way will get drilled between the fraking eyeballs...sir!" Nina had known of the potential threat to her commander, and both men knew she would risk her own life for William Adama without hesitation.

"That's good to know Nina, but I'm sure I'll be okay. We prepped and ready for departure?" asked Adama.

"Yes sir, Taz is ready, willing and able at your command." Taz was the name Nina had given to Raptor 4, she spent more time working on her Raptor than any of the deck gang, and precious few were allowed to even do routine maintenance on her.

"Very good, let's get under way." ordered Adama. He turned to Tigh, "Saul...it'll be fine, I'll be back before you know it." With the hatch closed, Raptor 4 was towed to the elevator platform that would raise it to the flight deck above. Unlike a viper, which were loaded into a launch tube to exit the ship, a Colonial raptor was launched from the forward opening of the flight pod.

"Shooter, Raptor 4...requesting permission to launch." announced Nintius over the comline to the launch officer.

"_Raptor 4 this is shooter... you are cleared for launch." _Fifty tons of Raptor now released from its magnetic locks lifted off the flight deck in the zero gravity. Nina had finessed the cyclic with all the skill of a master pilot. She exited the massive maw of the flight pod and made her way to the much larger Mercury-class Battlestar that had taken the point position for the fleet. Adama sat back comfortably in the in the rear cabin and looked straight ahead, deep in thought.

**Freighter _Prometheus_**

Cruising along in the convoy of civilian ships, the inhabitants of the freighter___Prometheus _went aboard their daily routine. The ship is commanded by a middle-aged woman by the name of Doyle Franks, but the real power aboard the ship is a man known only as Phelan. An ex-military mercenary who runs the fleet's illegal black market unchallenged. Those that did so, usually found themselves quickly amongst the unliving. Phelan is seldom seen without an armed security detail around him, and one individual in particular, a Tauron by the name of Vega. On his home world of Tauron, Vega was a foot soldier for the Ha'la'tha, now he is Phelan's right and man and advisor. With Vega sitting close by, Phelan had just completed a transaction that involved a representative for a quorum member, and a young female of the age of twelve. Phelan cared not at all if the young girl was for the man before him, or for his powerful boss on the Quorum. The only thing he cared about was power and cubits. When the quorum representative completed the transaction and left the dimly lit room, Vega had spoke up.

"We have a problem." he said without emotion.

"That's what _you're_ paid handsomely for to deal with, Vega." replied Phelan as he inhaled deeply on the fumarello between his fingertips.

"The problem is Fisk." Phelan's eyes narrowed to two slits as he slowly spun around to face his Tauron advisor.

"Fisk...again?" replied Phelan with a mild trace of annoyance. "Why do I keep hearing this gluttonous fools name so often, what is his latest outrage?"

"He's informed me that he wishes to meet with you, to discuss prices on the 218- Alpha energizers."

"To discuss prices?" repeated Phelan angrily. "The prices have already been negotiated, and agreed upon. There are no re negotiations, _ever!_"

"I informed him of that, and all he did was smile, and proceeded to inform me that he could have an entire company of Marines swarming the market if you didn't like it."

"Well then, by all means... let's not keep the good Colonel Fisk waiting." replied Phelan soberly.

**Planning room alpha – Battlestar _Pegasus_**

While not at all agreeing with Cain's intention to launch an offensive against the Cylon outpost, William Adama was clearly impressed with the op put together by one of his former pilots, who just so happened to be the closest thing to a daughter he had. He was very proud of Kara, while he knew she never complained about being a squadron leader aboard his ship, he knew that she wouldn't have risen to command an entire air group as she was now doing aboard the much more advanced Pegasus.

"From what Captain Thrace has presented, I must say that I am highly impressed, but not surprised." complimented Adama. Starbuck smiled and slightly nodded her thanks to her former commander. "So Galactica's current nuclear arsenal of five will be augmented to thirty warheads?"

"Yes commander." replied Cain. "With the major change to the plans, jumping both Battlestars into orbit, as opposed to using our viper squadrons to burn time and fuel traversing the asteroid field, we will have a small window of opportunity to take out the Basestars before they launch their raiders. Pegasus carries her full compliment of nukes, which she will gladly share with you."

Starbuck spoke up, "and with the destruction of the two orbiting Baseships, both of our air wings can launch the second wave of the attack on the SAM (Surface-to-Air Missile) sites and any other ground defenses, leaving the raptors free to land for the third phase of the attack using ground forces and land rams. We secure the outpost, then land the tankers asap, along with the _Monarch_ and the remaining assigned ships."

"They won't know what hit them!" chimed in Fisk smugly.

"I wouldn't assume that, colonel." replied Adama. "As far as we know, there are only two Baseships in orbit at _this time_. We're tasking six raptors to jump in ahead of us and establish a triangulation fix for each enemy ship, and then jump away just before the nukes hit. A very small window indeed. What if there are more then we counted on, what if more jump in the moment we commit ourselves?"

"Toe to toe, these newer designed Baseships just don't have the heavy armor plating that a Colonial Battlestar possesses, we can slug it out and adapt to the new situation if need be."

"What of the civilian fleet?"

"We'll task four heavily-armed Raptors, and Blue squadron to protect them at the emergency jump site. Between them, and the civilian ships you had armed most recently, they should be adequately protected."

"Have you briefed the president on this plan, admiral?" asked Adama.

"No. The less cooks in the kitchen, the better, in my opinion commander. At least President Adar served in the military, and knew what his role was as the president. I will inform President Roslin at the appropriate time." said Cain with a note of finality. It was obvious she would book no interference from her, or the Quorum.

"While I don't necessarily agree with leaving the president out of the loop at this time, I can say that with this plan, our chances for success are much higher than our previous op. Getting our hands on that tylium, and taking out two Baseships is vital." mused Adama. "Do we have a fallback plan in the event a situation developed that we cannot immediately adapt to?"

"Commander, I don't see anything that could happen that the combined experience present in this room couldn't adapt, improvise and overcome do you?"


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56.

**Personal Quarters Commander Air Group – Battlestar _Pegasus_ **

Starbuck had just finished reviewing her op for the third time in the last two hours, looking for the slightest hint of a flaw. She had known William Adama for years, and knew deep down that he had approved of her tactical plans for the assault on the outpost even though he disagreed with the decision to do so. She also knew that he was very proud of her, even if it wasn't shown on the outside. She knew. The peace and quiet was soon disturbed by a knock at her cabin. She closed the op binder and hit the intercom button. _"Enter." _The door slid open, and in stepped Lee Adama.

"Catching you at a bad time, Kara?" asked Lee apprehensively from the doorway.

"No Lee, let's get it over with."

"I'm not sure what you mean?" shot back Lee taking a seat opposite Starbuck at her desk. The two had known each other for years, and Lee knew he was facing a very confused Kara Thrace. "Look, you don't have to talk with me, I just thought you could use a friend."

"You're a bad fraking liar, Leland Adama!" Kara opened her desk drawer and pulled out a silver flask. Unscrewing the cap, she took a long pull and handed it across the table where Lee took a swig. "Cain and I were up late reviewing the op over drinks, at some point she kissed me." said Kara, her voice barely a whisper.

"...and next thing you know, you're staggering out of her quarters at oh dark thirty, hey I've been there." quipped Lee with a smile.

"You ass, if you're trying to make me feel better, you're failing spectacularly."

"Look, all kidding aside, what the frak happened Kara?"

"I don't know," she began. "We drank, but weren't drunk at all" she quickly added. "She leaned over and kissed me, and honest to the gods, I don't know why she did it, or why I didn't stop her."

"Did you _want_ her to stop?" pressed Lee. Before his question could be answered the phone attached to the wall buzzed. Kara reached over and lifted the receiver.

"CAG!" she answered sharply. She listened to the voice on the other end and then hung up. She looked over at Lee and exhaled. "Cain wants to see me."

"Are you wearing clean underwear?" said Lee smiling. Kara kicked Lee in the shin under the table and ordered him out of her quarters.

**Combat Information Center – _Pegasus_**

Admiral Helena Cain stood by the command and control station, often referred to as the "plotting table." The Command and Control station is the central terminal within the Combat Information Center, used by the Commanding and Executive Officers aboard a Colonial battlestar. With a 360-degree view of the CIC, the officer in command can observe and plot battle tactics, view transparent star charts, and issue commands to the various stations surrounding it. At her side was her second in command, Jack Fisk, a man Starbuck didn't like, or trust.

"Captain Thrace, I wanted to inform you that I've started the countdown for the attack. I trust our air wing is ready?"

"Absolutely sir." replied Starbuck crisply. "All pilots have been placed on alert, and the pilot's lounge has been sealed until after the op. When not checking on their birds, all pilots have been instructed to grab as much rack time as possible, and review their part of the op."

"Excellent captain, I hope Commander Adama had the good sense to issue similar orders to his air wing." said Cain dismissively. Knowing this wasn't a question, but a statement that was intended to cast a cloud on William Adama's command fitness, Starbuck felt the urge to reply immediately.

"With all due respect sir, I have zero doubts that Commander Adama has his air wing at the utmost state of readiness. Acting CAG, Captain Lensherr is an outstanding pilot, and I have no doubt he's locked and loaded to go."

Cain looked up from the plotting table and smiled briefly before replying. "I dearly hope so captain...dismissed and good hunting." Starbuck came to attention and snapped out a stiff salute.

**Port Flight Pod Hanger Bay – _Galactica_**

Acting CAG Matt Lensherr sat in his Mk. II viper, the canopy slid back, instead of in the up position that was associated with the newer Mk. VII. The on board computer indicated the magazines holding the 30mm rounds were topped off at 800. Two HD-70 Lightning Javelin missiles, and two Spectra Six missiles were firmly attached to the rails beneath the fuselage. His bird was heavy, and he prayed the dog-fighting with raiders would be kept to a minimum. The element of surprise was crucial, and he took pains to reposition an octagonal-shaped photo of D'Anna to the side of his console.

"Do I ever bring you luck in battle, Fire God?"

D'Anna. The sound of her voice had normally always soothed Matt, this time his head snapped to the right and back. Fleet News reporter, and the love of his life, D'Anna Biers was crouched on the right wing of his viper, hands folded in front of her face as if she was contemplating the meaning of life.

"I never e'en heard you get up there, how'd you accomplish that lass?" asked Matt pulling himself up out of the cockpit.

"As I told you before...I'm a Cylon." said D'Anna smiling deviously.

"I wouldn't say that too loud, Cain's got ears everywhere. She may hang ye by yuir pretty neck." laughed Matt hopping down onto the deck. He held out his arms, and D'Anna jumped down into them. "How'd ye get down here, the bays are restricted access?"

"What's the point of being the CAG's girlfriend if it doesn't get me a privilege or two?" I've been trying to call your quarters, but hadn't any luck. I finally tracked you down here." She looked around the massive bay, watching the deck gang fuel and arm the sleek star fighters in their berths. "What's going on?"

"The op against the Cylon outpost is back on." Matt replied quietly.

"What? When did this happen?" asked D'Anna. "I was so relieved when the mission was scrubbed, now it's back on? When do you go?"

"D'Anna...you know better than to ask that. _Especially_ with the mixed crews we have here, gods only know whose listening." Matt leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, "don't worry lass, I'll come back, I always do."

**_Galactica_ CIC -Twenty-two minutes to launch**

"Commander, shooter reports all squadrons prepped and ready to launch." reported Dualla from the communications station. Adama nodded and turned to his executive officer.

"Blue squadron and Raptors 1, 2, 6 and 9 are on station with the fleet at the emergency jump coordinates." informed Tigh. "We're ready, Bill."

"We better be, we get one crack at this outpost, and just as importantly...the Resurrection ship in orbit around it. Retract the pods, and prepare the ship for jump, colonel!" On a Colonial Battlestar of Galactica's advanced age, the spooling-up time for the FTL drive is twenty minutes from a cold start.

Specific Raptors from both _Galactica_ and _Pegasus_ were broken down into units of three according to their mission. They would make two jumps, one to the inner-most edge of the asteroid field concealing the Cylon outpost where they would take new dradis readings, once they've ascertained the position of each Baseship and the Resurrection ship. They would jump to those locations and take up station to triangulate the exact position of the enemy ships and allow the Colonial Battlestars to jump to those exact coordinates to attack. The Resurrection ship was conveniently positioned between the two massive Cylon capital ships.

**Jump Position Alpha – Asteroid Field**

Raptor 4 under the command of Nina "Betty" Nintius was using its maneuvering thrusters to avoid the large fragments of ice and rock that floated dangerously all around them. The Raptor, christened 'TAZ', was heavily-armed with a full payload of Spectra Six missiles, and two . Nina withheld deploying the articulating arms containing the missile racks until out of the deadly asteroid field. She looked over to her regular ECO, Lt. Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson who was furiously working her command console, computing the next jump coordinates. "We ready to rock, Racetrack?"

"Ready to jump, boss, awaiting green lights from remaining raptors." Within thirty seconds, the ECO's of the other Raptors signaled ready to jump, a short countdown was given, and the raptors all disappeared instantaneously.

**Cylon Basestar Command Center**

"Dradis contacts! Colonial Raptors have jumped into our orbit!" announced a five series Cylon calmly. The humanoid Cylons were positioned throughout the chamber, several of them with their hands submerged in the data stream. Their brains and reflexes operated far faster than a human's, but considerably slower than the computers that were controlled by the Hybrid. Alarms sounded, and defensive weaponry came online.

"What are they doing?" asked Cavil.

"Broadcasting an amplified signal on Colonial military frequency two." informed Simon.

"I don't believe it, they're attacking us?" said Cavil with an arched eyebrow. Outside the Baseships, the bright flash of an FTL halo brightened the skies above the outpost. Two Colonial Battlestars appeared, both at least 1500 meters from each Baseship. The flight pods of the Jupiter-class Battlestar extended, as vipers exploded from the launch tubes on the newer Mercury-class Battlestar.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"Cylon Basestar bearing 015 carom 100 dead ahead!" yelled Gaeta from the tactical station. Within seconds of their arrival, the Cylon baseship launched their defensive weaponry. Adama and Tigh already had their nuclear keys inserted prior to the jump, and both simultaneously turned their individual keys, allowing the weapons station to fire their nukes, Two 50 megaton nuclear missiles fired from the bow launchers of the 'alligator's head' of the ship, streaking towards the Baseship before her. Both struck simultaneously, one striking the middle of the center axis connecting the Y-shaped hulls, the second striking higher up, just beneath the connection to the bottom of the upper hull. From that close range the results were catastrophic, the Cylon ship was immediately vaporized by the high yield weapon.

Aboard the Pegasus, a separate launcher rotated to a very specific set of coordinates and fired its missile, a nuclear-tipped Picon Penetrator. The missile streaked through the void towards the Resurrection ship, now with its FTL drive fully spun up and preparing to jump away to safety. The Pegasus shook violently under a lethal barrage of enemy missile fire. As fast as the humans were, Cylons were faster, and reacted with lightning speed, and accuracy upon their arrival.

"Impact to Resurrection ship in five...four...three...two..._one!_" announced the tactical officer standing before his station. The missile burrowed deep through the hull and continued for fifty meters before coming to a complete stop deep into its heart, a large chamber with tens of thousands of resurrection tubs. Several Cavils looked up from their work in wide-eyed astonishment when the missile penetrated through the far chamber wall and skidded to a stop mere dozen feet before them. An audible clicking ceased, and at that miniscule fraction of a second, all the nuclei in the chunk of Colonial-processed plutonium mined on Virgon, had been struck by escaping neutrons, and had broken down. The extra energy in trillions of atomic nuclei was released at once! The destruction is instantaneous, and complete. Over seven thousand humanoid Cylons lying in their resurrection tubs were incinerated in less than a second.

"Fried those frakers!" exclaimed Fisk triumphantly. While understanding his enthusiasm for the Resurrection ship's destruction, Cain was mildly annoyed at her number two's outburst in her CIC.

"Weapons, fire missiles one and three... target, enemy baseship!" ordered Cain Calmly. Twin nuclear-tipped missiles exploded from their launchers and traveled less than 1500 meters to their programmed target. Without point defense turrets, Cylon baseships depended on their raider complement to defend them, at this moment, the airborne raiders were directly engaged by Colonial vipers. The missiles flew straight and true, directly into their intended target. Fissures erupted throughout the center axis that connected the upper and lower Y-shaped hulls, splitting the hull in every direction before it exploded.

"Second Baseship destroyed, admiral." reported the tactical officer.

"Signal the raptors, have them take out the surface communications array!" ordered Cain. The op was going as planned so far. Both Baseships, and more importantly, the Resurrection ship was out of the fight, but they still had well over a thousand raiders in the air, and whatever they had to throw at them from the surface. Upon arrival of the two Colonial Battlestars, the raptor teams cleared the airspace and flew a holding pattern out of the range of the anticipated nuclear shock wave. Nina had deployed the articulating arms that contained the missile launchers, locking them in place. The much-awaited orders to begin their second phase of the operation now came over the wireless. She rotated her cyclic, and increased speed, heading for the surface, the other raptors in her wake and spreading out.

"Where is it, Margaret?" yelled Nina. Racetrack's fingers danced across the keyboard, and within seconds got a lock on the target.

"Coordinates transferred to your screen, boss. Cylon communications relay targeted and locked."

"Have they broadcast any signals yet?"

"Negative, I think we're catching them completely off guard." Nina knew better, the Cylons operated technologically far faster than a human, it would be any moment before they broadcast a distress signal to their fleet. Each raptor were currently jamming known Cylon frequencies, but no chances were to be taken. They had to destroy the communications relay, and quickly. "Frak...scratch my last, they're transmitting, but we're blocking it." announced Racetrack. "They're hopping, constantly changing frequency modulations. It's only a matter of time before they punch through, thirty seconds at the most." Nina increased speed and homed in on the signal, she was now within effective firing range and toggled the safeties off. At that moment, the skies exploded with anti-aircraft fire, Raptor 3 took a direct hit, exploding like a miniature sun. They were out of time, with that raptor's jamming waves gone, their window of opportunity was now down to single digit seconds. Taz's targeting computer sounded the computer lock tone, and Nina quickly depressed the trigger on the cyclic. Two HD-70 Lightning Javelin missiles leaped from their launchers, following the signal all the way down, they slammed into the side of a large dome that contained the Cylon communications station, blasting it to rubble. "Yeah baby, Cylon transmissions have ceased...target destroyed!" yelled a very happy Racetrack.

Silver Spar squadron was now flying low on the deck, a mere twenty meters above the rocky surface. Matthew Lensherr's dradis screen sounded furiously as surface to air missile batteries came on line, and started to paint the skies above the outpost. He fingered the transmission button on his joystick. "_Hephaestus to all wings, the SAMS are active and painting, let's get in there and shut em down!" _Two missiles streaked up from a rocky outcropping that he passed over, it was well-concealed and they were gaining rapidly.

"Hephaestus, Nightstalker...you've got a pair on your six, bank hard right and climb!"

"_Banking right and climbing."_repeated the squadron leader. The star fighter was now in a steep climb, the pressure suit Matt wore was forcing the blood in his lower extremities to be forced to his upper torso and brain. The force was incredible, Matt's Mk. II viper was heavily weighed down with missiles, and for a second the missile's lock on the viper broke, it was all the time Mark Sarnex needed to take out the missiles. Surface to air missiles streaked up from the surface, each roughly nine meters in length. Colonial raptors did their best to disrupt the missile's targeting locks, but many of the missiles found their targets, blowing vipers out of the skies.

Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach was starting his run on the airfield that paralleled an elongated anti-aircraft battery, several heavy raiders sat on the airfield, humanoid Cylons running for their rear open hatch in an effort to get airborne. 30mm rounds tore through the dorsal side of the first heavy raider, causing it to explode violently, as he looked back over his shoulder, he could see one of the two man crews stagger out of the wreckage completely aflame. His last visual was of the enemy pilot dropping to its knees, then falling face down on to be consumed by the fire.

"_Peacemaker, Showboat...great shot, you completely toasted that skinjob!" _Marcia "Showboat" Case called out over the comline. Jon understood her joy at the kill, but he couldn't help but wonder if the humanoid Cylons could feel pain. Death by fire was a grisly way to perish, no matter what the life form. The next viper coming in for a straphing run didn't fare as well as Peacemaker. The anti-aircraft batteries lit up the skies with a blistering assault, blowing the nose and dorsal stabilizer clean off the Mk. VII viper. The pilot whose call sign was "Slowpoke" screamed in horror as his viper plummeted to the surface in a sickeningly spiral descent.

A Raptor bearing the first dozen marines landed under heavy fire, and before the hatch sprung open to unleash its warriors, Lt. Kara "Destiny" Fan dropped a 500 pound bomb right on top of a squad of heavily-armed advancing Centurions. In that moment of destruction, the hatch opened and a dozen Colonial Marines under the command of Captain Dav Sharpe set foot on the battlefield. Three more raptors deposited their marines onto the surface, as well as two land rams that were firmly attached to the bottom of raptors. Exploding bolts released the tracked vehicle from the underbelly. The top hatch opened, and a marine quickly manned the deadly 25mm Chain Gun mounted on top. Within five minutes, 70% of Galactica's and Pegasus' Marine regiment was on the rocky surface, engaging Centurions now exiting from various parts of the outpost. Captain Sharpe pressed a transmit button on the side of his helmet. "Alpha 1 to Charlie 1...over."

Galactica Lieutenant Terry Burrell's voice soon replied. _"Charlie 1 receives Alpha 1, go ahead with your message!"_

"Charlie 1, our eye in the sky reports heavy toaster deployment from that south tower, just to the right of that squat Tylium tank, over."

"_Alpha 1, the last two vipers attempting straphing runs on that location got taken out, I'm going to send some mortar rounds downrange, then follow it up with a Landram assault before sending in my platoon, over." _ There was very little breathable atmosphere on the surface of the outpost, and each marine's combat suit contained 24 hours of oxygen. Under high stress, and physical activity of battle, that 24 hours really meant about 12 to 14 hours maximum. Pfc Paddy Armenis from_ Gemenon _quickly set up his 60mm light mortar, getting his readings through a hand-held device that was attached to the side of the launch tube by a set of red wires. Cpl. Kym Dahshur waited for Armenis' signal to drop the round down the top of the barrel. With the signal given, the 60 mm high explosive mortar bomb fitted with M734 fuze was dropped down the business end of the tube and exited at high speed. It landed twenty meters from the tower, dropping at least six Centurions. Armenis adjusted his settings and signaled Dahshur to drop another shell. A direct hit on the tower sent spaulled concrete and steel in every direction. Almost immediately, a trio of raiders reversed course, and sped directly to the location of the mortar launcher. "_Frak...they already have our location!" _yelled Armenis as the raiders were spotted heading their way. The two marines dove for cover as the first round of Cylon 30 mm cannon-fire raked the ground around them. The second raider's rounds struck the tripod holding the cannon, destroying the weapon. Armenis signaled his platoon leader over the comline. _"Charlie six to Charlie one...mortar launcher is down, repeat...mortar launcher is down, over."_

"Charlie one to charlie six...damage to tower, over?"

"_We scored a direct hit with the second round before our location was pinpointed and attacked. Unknown on extent of damage, and no injuries to report, over."_

Switching frequencies, Burrell signaled Raptor 4 who was making a low-level sweep of the area. "Raptor 4, Charlie one, over."

"_Raptor 4 answering Charlie one, go ahead, over."_

"Nina, I need a low level pass on the south tower for damage estimates, over."

"_When I'm not giving your gorillas a lift here or there you've got me doing the dangerous felgercarb, I'm putting in for extra combat pay, over." replied Nina playfully._

"I'll sign the request, now get moving, over." ordered Burrell. From his position of cover he could see Raptor 4 reverse course and increase speed towards the south tower. Small arms fire from Cylon ground troops ricocheted off Taz's fuselage. Nina worked her cyclic to bring her craft directly over the tower's location. Smoke poured from the shattered walls, and she could see the remains of at least a dozen Centurions scattered throughout the base of the tower.

A missile lock warning sounded loudly in her headset, and Nina immediately jinxed the cyclic to the right while increasing power to the thrusters. "Racetrack, deploy swallows!" ordered Nina as she stole a quick glimpse at her dradis screen. Swallows were a decoy drone used to lure enemy guided missiles away from a Colonial vessel, in this instance, two missiles were launched at her ship, and Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson worked frantically to save her ship from destruction. The swallows were deployed, and Nina immediately dove for lower ground.

Closer to the fuel depot, Captain Dav Sharpe was leading the assault atop the landram that provided an elevated view of the landscape. Looking up, he could see vipers and raiders from the now-destroyed Basestars slugging it out , with the occasional chase leading close to the surface. The 25mm chain gun produced an ear-splitting sound, and death and destruction occurred wherever the gun was pointed. By now, Centurions were rolling out larger caliber weapons, and calling in what few remaining Heavy Raiders survived to coordinate fire on the human attackers. A line of enemy small arms fire stitched its way up, and across the front of the landram, causing Sharpe to take cover behind the gun turret's base shielding. He was knocked to the side as the gunner slumped down, a bloody tangle of flesh and bone was present where once a human head existed. He pushed the body aside in the cramped well, and cautiously peered over the shield. Two Centurions had already reached the front of the landram and started to climb up the front. He grasped the gun stock and brought the barrel down as low as it would go, firing off a long burst that caught the closest Centurion full in the chest and head.

Both Centurions had retracted their built-in weapons in order to use what passed for their hands to climb the landram. The second Centurion had used one arm to knock the gun barrel aside as the other hand retracted into its housing and just as quickly produced a trio of gun barrels., all of them pointed at Sharpe. No sooner had Sharpe thought he was dead, then a burst of 50 caliber rounds struck the Centurion, knocking it backwards off the landram and onto the surface. The tank treads quickly completed what the 50 caliber started. Sharpe looked over to the closest Marine on the ground and ordered him to take the place of the dead gunner. It was time to take the fuel depot.


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57.

Starbuck's viper had taken several minor hits from small arms fire, the computer flashed an audible, and visual warning indicating she was down to her last 100 rounds of 30mm ammunition. She had one missile on her port wing's missile rail and she was saving it for just the right opportunity. The fighting in the air and on the surface was intense, some of the worst she had ever experienced. Thankfully the Basestars were taken out quickly, and the Cylon's ability to transmit a call for reinforcements was also destroyed thanks to Betty and Racetrack. Unfortunately, the full complement of raiders from both basestars were aloft, and still putting up an incredible fight against the Colonial forces.

"Starbuck, Apollo...no additional raiders from the outpost, but they're still putting up a lot of flak from those SAMS, over."

"_Let's get the Raptors redeployed to scramble their targeting computers once they've offloaded their marines."_ ordered the CAG. She wanted this battle over soon, it was going to take time to finally secure the outpost, and bring in the _Monarch_ and smaller tankers before other Cylons arrived. She switched frequencies on her transmitter and keyed the mic. "_Alpha 1, Starbuck whats your status, over?"_

On the surface, Captain Dav Sharpe was still atop the landram as it advanced onto the main fuel depot. The Centurions were putting up an incredible fight, cutting down scores of the black-clad Marines as they fought for every meter of the surface leading to the prize. "Starbuck, this is Alpha 1, we're pushing our way into the perimeter, but still encountering heavy Centurion resistance, over."

"_Copy that, Alpha 1...I'll dispatch some vipers on low flybys to lighten your load, over." _replied Starbuck. She relayed orders to Hephaestus to bring his squadron back in low to provide cover for the ground forces, Raptors had already started to jam the SAM launcher's targeting dradis, freeing up Silver Spar squadron to aid the ground forces. Hephaestus brought his viper down low and fast along the length of the perimeter of the fuel depot. A burning raider that had been downed was providing cover to a squad of Centurions operating their own mortar weapons. The lead Centurion dropped the shell down the barrel and it shot out at a far greater speed towards the programmed target which was a squad of marines. The 60 pound shell exploded 20 meters above their heads, the shrapnel raining down upon the marines. Small magnetized bomblets attached to black body armor and detonated, the carnage was catastrophic. Pools of blood, and mangled flesh quickly coagulated in the subzero cold. The battered black helmet of Corporal Tamara Weeks rolled across the front of Sharpe's landram, the air hose that was dangling from it had gotten caught up in the landram's tank treads, her head still within it. The marine captain put aside the horrific vision and pressed on the attack.

30mm rounds from the twin Thraxon cannons spit out along the length of the raider being used as cover, striking the trio of Centurions and their mortar cannon, clearing the way for advancing Marines. Nightstalker came in immediately behind his squadron leader and let loose one of his wingtip missiles that struck home at a tower gun manned by two humanoid Cylons.

**Command and Control Center – Cylon Outpost**

The humanoid Cylon known to the fleet as Aaron Doral was the outpost commander, at this moment his computerized brain couldn't wrap itself around the idea that the humans were winning the battle against his outpost's defenses. At his command were two battalions of top of the line Centurions, and a vast array of surface to air missile batteries, and KEW towers ringing the perimeter of the fuel depot. This outpost was one of the furthest away from the Colonies, a vital fuel supply route for the Cylons. With his hands in the data stream basin, Doral was receiving immediate battlefield updates, and he wasn't happy.

"The humans have inflicted severe losses on our Centurions." observed a second Doral model.

"Instruct a heavy raider to jump to safety and make its way to communications range of the nearest assistance!"

"All heavy raiders have been destroyed, there are none online." informed Simon, a number four humanoid Cylon. They were momentarily distracted by a nearby explosion. Unlike a baseship, the command and control center was not located deep within the interior of a warship for protection, rather it lay on the surface in a bunker-like structure. Information relayed through the data stream indicated that Colonial forces had breached the inner compound, less than a dozen meters away. "The humans have penetrated our defenses!"

Doral was quick to respond, submerging his hands into the data stream basin. "I'm summoning all remaining Centurions to our position to repel the invaders. We've got to end this now!"

Across the surface of the outpost, what little remained of the two Centurion battalions fell back towards the command and control station, the Marines gave chase. Matthew Lensherr caught sight of the retreat and communicated it to Alpha 1.

"_Alpha 1, Hephaestus...Centurions are withdrawing back to the inner perimeter, repeat...remaining Centurions retreating to inner perimeter, over._"

"Hephaestus, Alpha 1... be advised that we've breached the walls of the complex, and making our way to their command post, can you viper jocks cut em down so we don't get bogged down in close-quarter combat, over?"

"_Alpha 1, message received,"_ replied Lensherr as he switched back to the air wing's main frequency. "_Hephaestus to all available wings, the marines have breached the complex and need us to keep the clankers off o' them while they take down the command post...get in there and take em out!"_ Colonial vipers not already engaged in combat answered the call, doing low speed flyovers of the inner perimeter trying to cut down the numbers of Centurions responding to the aid of the command post. Alpha 1's landram widened the hole previously blown open in the concrete wall by the demo team, the tank treads spinning up the body of an armed humanoid Cylon that happened to be in front of it. Once the landram came to a full stop, Captain Dav Sharpe jumped to the floor, assault rifle at the ready. He ordered a defensive perimeter established at the breach, and then led two heavily armed squads of Marines down the hallway before him.

Six humanoid Cylons were within the command and control center, the number two model of the known eight, Leoben Conoy, had passed out weapons to defend themselves. When the doors blew open, the first marine to enter through the burning haze was viciously cut down by automatic weapons fire. The marines replied with half a dozen flash bang grenades tossed into the 40 x 60 foot room. When Captain Sharpe entered the command post, all six of the humanoid Cylons were on the ground holding their ears, their eyes squeezed shut tightly. They were quickly dispatched with two rounds to the head each. Sharpe toggled his helmet transmitter, and relayed to the flagship that the command and control station had been taken.

**Pegasus CIC**

"Admiral Cain, Alpha 1 reports that the Cylon command post has been taken, they're in the process of trying to shut down the automated triple A batteries and SAM sites." informed the communications officer. Cain merely nodded, watching the various data streaming in from her teams, both airborne and ground forces. Raiders orphaned by their Baseship's destruction that could not be intercepted by vipers continued to make runs on both Galactica, and Pegasus, inflicting minimal damage where they were able to get past point defense weapons.

"Tactical, continue dradis sweeps of the asteroid field's inner perimeter, While I suspect that the Cylons could easily jump to within orbit normally, I don't intend to take any chances." ordered Cain, never taking her eyes off of the multi-screened Dradis console suspended above her plotting table. The battle raged another two hours as marines finally mopped up the remaining Centurions in and outside of the outpost. The remaining raiders were ruthlessly chased down and destroyed as well. When the all clear was finally given, the vipers were immediately recalled to refuel and reload while the Monarch, and the tankers started to land at the fuel depot in preparation of removing the tylium stores.

**_Galactica_ CIC – One hour after securing the outpost**

Adama replaced the receiver into its cradle on the side of the plotting table. His instructions from Admiral Cain was to pull back to just within the outer perimeter along the asteroid field. Vipers and Raptors continued to rotate in for refueling and reloading, just in the event that Cylon reinforcements arrived while the tylium was being loaded into the tankers. As usual, his second in command, Colonel Saul Tigh was at his side.

"Looks like the _Monarch_ will be able to fill seventy percent of her holding tanks with the unprocessed tylim ore, commander." reported Tigh after reading the initial reports.

"Excellent news Saul, the _Monarch_ was down to at least twenty two percent prior to the _Pegasus_ showing up in the fleet. Even without the processed tylium that the tankers will be bringing up, the unprocessed ore is a tremendous gain."

"Burrell reports at least forty pallets of small arms ammunition, most likely used in the Centurion's built-in weapons. We'll see if we can use the caliber, if not we'll still have the powder. Also, we've managed to shut down the SAM sites before they were able to launch all of their type II surface to air missiles." Tigh continued to read down the list, "sixteen pallets of 30mm ammunition used in their point defense turrets, three dozen assault weapons, most likely for the skin jobs on the outpost, and an assortment of other goodies the marines can make use of."

"Good, all military resources will be split throughout the armed forces, fuel and other materials to be spread throughout the civilian fleet." noted Adama.

"Bet the bitch isn't too happy about doing _that_." chuckled Tigh. Catching the message relayed through Adama's arched eyebrow, he continued on with his report. We can dismantle a good deal of the bulkheads and salvage the metal, gods know it'll come in handy patching up various civilian ships."

"Alright Saul, keep me in the loop, I'll be in my quarters." said Adama walking out of the CIC. Over the next six hours, tankers would make round trips to _Galactica_ to quickly top off her fuel tanks in order for it to return to the fleet, who were standing by at the emergency jump coordinates. Blue squadron, which had been flying protection for the fleet throughout the operation, could then be relieved by another squadron until the _Pegasus_ and _Monarch_ rejoined them. Teams tasked with salvaging material from the outpost worked around the clock to secure valuable metal, wiring and other items desperately needed for the fleet.

**Cylon Outpost – Command and Control **

Captain Dav Sharpe stood over the bodies of the humanoid Cylons neatly placed side by side on the floor. He was awaiting confirmation from all search teams that no other 'skin job' was left unaccounted for. There were a total of four different models stationed at the outpost, with a significant number of Centurions. A marine held out a small hand-held video recorder and slowly panned across the four faces to document them, and add to the intelligence files on known Cylon agents.

"We all set here, sergeant?" asked sharpe.

"Affirmative sir, this wing is the last to be depressurized in order for the salvage team to start dismantling it for transport." Sharpe nodded and issued orders to personnel to suit back up and go 'on air.' the Cylons would not be given any burial considerations, and would be left to the mercy of the elements of the surface.

**Combat Information center – _Pegasus_**

"Admiral, the last of the Raptors have landed and are secured. Gold squadron is escorting the final three tankers up from the surface, and they've been instructed to land in the port landing bay." informed the communications officer.

"Port pod will be a tight fit with those three tankers, sir." observed Fisk.

"As long as they're fully loaded I don't care if they're riding piggyback on our backs, Jack." replied Cain. "We broke their fraking backs in this sector, and took their fuel, armaments, and whole damned outpost. All in all, a damned good day's work."

"I couldn't agree more, admiral." said Fisk smiling broadly.

"Once the _Monarch_ jumps back to the fleet, and the CAP is secured, start the countdown to jumping us the hell out of here. We've been here far too long." ordered Cain.

**Pegasus Mess Hall – Three days after reuniting with the fleet**

At a quiet corner of the room, elevated two feet higher on a twelve by twelve foot platform was a six foot rectangular table with white tablecloth. Two crossed standards hung directly behind the table, the flag of the Colonies, and the flag of Battlestar Group 62. Helena Cain sat opposite her CAG, both had started to eat lunch, the very same fare as her crew would eat, which was Cain's belief, and orders to do so. The meal consisted of an algae-based salad with vegetables, and a two ounce slab of processed meat with a spicy brown gravy.

"An excellent job Kara," began Cain as she took a sip of water. "From the moment you took over the role of CAG, you have completed every task I've assigned you in a highly efficient manner, transferring you to my command was probably the smartest decision I've made in a very long time." Kara smiled, it was praise that every subordinate wanted to hear from their superior officer, but with Cain it was different. Deep down she knew that Cain was a threat to not only Bill Adama, but to the entire fleet as well. To make matters worse, she still couldn't wrap her mind around the night she shared Cain's bed.

"Thank you, admiral. I hope never to make you regret your decision."

"I doubt you could." Cain replied quietly, her eyes penetrating Starbuck's very soul. While I have enjoyed our lunch together, I would much prefer you join me in my quarters this evening for a more... private dinner." said Cain as she pushed back her chair to stand. Starbuck leaped to her feet.

"Of course, admiral."

"Excellent, now I must go relieve my executive officer so he can depart for the _Hitei Kan_. He has some matters to attend to. I will expect you at 2030 hours." With that, Admiral Cain departed the mess hall, leaving Starbuck at the table to finish her lunch.

**Black Market lower levels -Freighter **_**Prometheus**_

The two large Colonial Marines Thomas and Clarke, stood with their backs to the door, their assault rifles slung across their chests, watching the room. Phelan sat behind his large wooden desk, his man Vega leaning against the wall in the corner smoking a fumarello. Colonel Jack Fisk arrogantly sat in the plush leather chair opposite the black market leader. He leaned across the desk and helped himself to the crystal bottle that was to the right of its owner. He lifted the top and sniffed deeply, a smile spread across his lips. "Aged whiskey... what is it, Tauron, Saggitaron?"

"If you must know, it's Tauron Mr. Fisk." replied Phelan flatly.

"Mister Fisk?" laughed Pegasus' executive officer heartily. "Did I get busted down to civilian status and not know it?" Phelan's eyes narrowed, his fingertips pressed together just beneath his jaw.

"Well, I have to assume this isn't an official visit, or are you here in your official capacity..._Colonel?_"

"We're totally off grid here, Phelan. My raptor's flight plan has me listed as landing aboard the _Hitei Kan _for an inspection in preparation for an upcoming mission."

"And what mission might that be, colonel?"

"Ah, a routine reassignment." lied Fisk with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Now, can we get down to business, my time is valuable."

"My associate, Mr. Vega informs me that you wish to renegotiate our previously agreed to price of the energizers. I have a policy of no re-negotiations..._ever_." Phelan's tone was purposely sharp, and final.

"Your associate?" sneered Fisk. "According to my sources, before the fall of the colonies, he was a low-level enforcer for the Ha'la'tha. I find it offensive that I have to even deal with him. In the event that Mr. Vega here failed to pass along my message, let me repeat it to you directly. I'm second in command to the fleet commander...Admiral Cain. She has a visceral dislike for black marketeers, and wouldn't hesitate to send a company of marines to _Prometheus_ to shut you the frak down if I decided to educate her on your potent existence."

"It never ceases to amaze me how some people forget themselves when the greed sets in." mused Phelan looking over to Vega who stood there impassively. "It took you very little time to make yourself a willing customer of the service I generously provide, now you have the audacity to shake me down, make threats?" challenged the black marketeer.

"Lets cut the felgercarb, Phelan. We both know those energizers are worth a frakload more than what you're paying me. Here's the deal, I want an extra 20,000 cubits, a luxury stateroom aboard the _Chrion_ at my disposal, and lastly, some of your more...exotic services, anyone between 15 and 20 years old will suffice."

"And if I find those requests unacceptable?" challenged Phelan.

"Unacceptable? You operate under the misconception that you have some kind of choice. I can have an entire company of Marines aboard this ship, putting _Prometheus_ in lock down, and shutting down this sweet little operation of yours." threatened Fisk smugly. He was surprised when Phelan smiled, is white teeth gleaming in the half light.

"Colonial Marines...perhaps Mr. Clarke and Edwards there?" replied Phelan motioning to Fisk's security detail. Fisk turned towards his men, unsure how Phelan could know their names. "I do believe this conversation has ended Colonel, as has our agreement."

Jack Fisk's face contorted into a mask of anger, his face reddened as he sprang to his feet. "Corporal Clarke, front and center!" ordered Fisk. The large marine was soon at his side. "Place these men under arrest." Phelan leaned back in his seat, smiling and unconcerned. Clarke remained motionless much to Fisk's surprise. "Clarke, I gave you an order."

"You don't give orders on _Prometheus_, Fisk. I do!" said Phelan standing. He nodded to Edwards who was now standing behind Fisk, and in one quick motion wrapped a gloved hand around Fisk's mouth, while yanking his arm up high behind him. Jack Fisk let out a muffled scream. "It's unfortunate you didn't pay your men better, or file an accurate flight plan, nobody knows you're here. Our business has now concluded." Phelan looked over his shoulder. "Mr. Vega!" The former Ha'la'tha enforcer casually walked over to where Fisk was standing. He pulled out a long silver dagger and in one fluid motion slit Fisk's throat. The two marines released their hold on their former executive officer, allowing him to drop to his knees. With eyes bulging, his hands reached to the violated throat, blood spurting through his fingers. Phelan walked up to Fisk who was struggling to breath, he looked down at the dying man before him, "reap the rewards of your greed." He turned his gaze upon the two marines. "Dispose of the body as instructed, and return to the _Hitei Kan_."

Jack Fisk's final moments alive was lying face up in a pool of his own blood on the lower levels of the Prometheus, the sound of gurgling echoing off the metallic walls as his two trusted body guards, and the Ha'la'tha murderer stood over him watching the life flee his body. After an exhaustive fleet-wide search, Colonel Jack Fisk's naked body would be found in the bed of a very young socialator, herself dead from Phelan's planned overdose, the bloody dagger found in her cold, lifeless hand.


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58.

The coroner's report sat like a piece of radioactive material on her desk, the open folder containing several photographs of the crime scene, including the two bodies involved. A young blond-haired girl no older than fifteen lay curled up in the fetal position on the large bed of the luxury liner _Chrion_, a blood-covered dagger still in hand. The girl, who only went by the name Myra, was a well known socialtor throughout the seedier underworld of the fleet. Selling her services to men and women who preferred young girls to act out their deviant fantasies with. She would never see sixteen, dead of an apparent overdose of poison masquerading as a popular narcotic. The other photos, were of her executive officer, Colonel Jack Fisk. A buzzer sounded indicating that she had a call from the CIC. Picking up the receiver, she listened to her message while thumbing through the grisly necropsy photos. "Have them escorted to my quarters!" she instructed with mild annoyance. This was just one more incommodious distraction to the matter at hand to further foul her mood. She closed the folder labeled 'confidential,' and leaned back in her chair to stretch her lower back. Within ten minutes, the door to her quarters opened, communications officer Lieutenant Louis Hoshi stepped in, followed by President Laura Roslin, and Vice President Gauis Baltar. A strange combination she thought to herself. Under no normal circumstances would these two individuals be paired politically, much less reach the two top civilian roles in Colonial society. Her sources informed her that the two had had a serious falling out, and might actually run against each other in the coming elections. She remained seated, showing a complete lack of respect for the office the two visitors held. This was her command, her office, and she didn't much care for civilian oversight of military affairs.

"That will be all, Mr. Hoshi." said Cain with a nod. The young officer quickly exited the room and returned to his duties, leaving the three alone while the protective security detail of the two politicians remained out in the hallway with two large, and heavier armed Marines who made up Cain's protective detail.

"Madam President, Mister Vice President." acknowledged Cain with a nod of her head. "Please be seated." Laura Roslin was politically astute enough to see the slight, while Baltar seemed utterly oblivious, and preoccupied mentally elsewhere.

"Thank you for seeing us, Admiral." said Laura without the slightest hint of the graciousness. "My office has been informed of Colonel Fisk's death, and I would like to offer any assistance my office can provide."

"Thank you, Madam President, it is a very kind gesture. However, my intelligence division has things fully under control, and their investigation continues."

"Military intelligence division?" interrupted Baltar. "Wasn't the murder aboard a civilian ship, why isn't fleet security involved in the investigation?"

"Because...with all due respect Mr. Vice President, Fleet Security couldn't find their own heads if it was shoved up their asses." Cain clearly was dropping any pretense of her feelings of non-military agencies involved in what was becoming a fleet more and more becoming militarized. "Colonel Fisk was the executive officer of the flagship of this fleet, and as such, falls under complete military control. However, rest assured I will keep your offices informed of any developments." This time it was the President who was dropping any pretenses.

"Not good enough, admiral. What _was_ Colonel Fisk doing aboard the _Chrion?_ His flight plan, and the _Hitei Kan's_ hanger logs clearly indicated he was aboard _Hitei Kan_." demanded Roslin. Cain merely smiled, and studied the woman before her. She clearly misjudged the school teacher turned politician, she would have to watch her much more closely in the days ahead.

"I have no answers for that at this moment, Madam President." replied Cain tersly. "Rest assured however, that by the end of the day I _will_ have an answer to that mystery."

"Has Commander Adama been advised of the situation?" pressed Roslin.

"Of course, as one of the members of my chain of command, and the commander of _Galactica_, he has been fully briefed on the incident."

"_Incident?_" exclaimed Baltar. "Is that the new appellation for murder, admiral?"

"Mr. Vice President, I take the death of any of my crew with the utmost seriousness it deserves, regardless of rank, I'll thank you in advance for keeping that in mind. The official cause of Colonel Fisk's death was listed as exsanguin'ation._"_

"_Exsanguin'ation?" _asked Roslin.

"Taken from the old Tauronese, meaning _to drain the blood from_." offered the scientific side of Baltar.

"The good doctor would be correct," replied Cain. "Fisk's throat was slit from ear to ear, apparently my departed executive officer led a private lifestyle unknown to myself or others. The second body has been positively identified as a one Myra Thune, a fifteen and a half year old Gemonese girl who was reported missing by her parents almost immediately after this fleet escaped the colonies."

"Black market socialator?" opined Roslin, much to Cain's obvious surprise. Laura caught the raised eyebrow and spoke up.

"Admiral, I may be a 'school teacher' at heart, but I'm not obtuse!" replied Roslin sharply. "Becoming president of the colonies has forced me to open my eyes to many unpleasant realities within the fleet, sadly the amount of abductions of young boys and girls by the shadows of the market have steadily risen, forcing them into drug induced states and forced to work as socialators."

"What was the cause of death for the girl?" interrupted Baltar.

"An overdose of several narcotics known to mimic the appearance, and initial reaction to one of the more popular drugs infesting this fleet. That along with illicit plant vapor paraphernalia were present in the cabin. Whatever she took fried her brain, most likely driving her insane in the last moments of her wasted life."

"Why kill Fisk?"

"As I stated, and Dr. Baltar could probably confirm, the mixed drugs were of such a lethal potency, that death would be automatic. Maybe Fisk threatened her, maybe he refused to pay for her services, or maybe she just hated fat, disgusting old men preying on young girls." added Cain with contempt. "Either way, it's all academic now. A valuable element of my command staff is dead, and all leads have gone stone cold, even how Fisk gave his security detail the slip long enough to get over to the _Chrion_ from _Hitei Kan_."

"Have the marines been questioned?" pressed Roslin.

This brought what was left of Cain's patience to an end. "Madam president, those two marines were hand-picked by _myself_ to work the command staff security detail. They are highly decorated, with exemplary records. I must say that I'm not pleased with your insinuation of their character or loyalty."

"When there is even the slightest hint of foul play in the death of so senior an officer, then don't you think no stone should be left unturned...admiral?" The women sat opposite each other, each gaze firmly locked on the eyes of the other until Cain finally broke the silence.

"I'll be sure to keep both of your offices informed as the investigation continues, and thank you for taking the time out of your busy campaign schedules to visit." said Cain with a smile that displayed little humor or affection in it. Roslin merely nodded, and without another word, to either Cain or her vice president, she walked out of the room. Baltar stood awkwardly, and Cain couldn't help but notice his constant turning to the left, as if there was someone there and talking with him. She found the little man extremely strange, clearly brilliant, yet with an edge of insanity bubbling beneath his handsome features.

"How goes your campaign, doc? From the drivel that oozes out of talk wireless, I hear the fleet has a real pre-election battle going on."

"I'd prefer the honorific Mr. Vice President, or even _Doctor_ Baltar if you must, but as far as the campaign goes, talk wireless seldom gets anything correct. If you would excuse me, admiral...I have work to get back to." said Baltar with a slight bow. Cain watched as the high strung would-be president scurried out of the room more like a child than serious political leader. She realized that this election could prove an asset or hindrance to her, depending on which candidate won. She would have to watch the race very carefully.

**Pilot's Country – Port Flight Pod**

Matt Lensherr lumbered into his quarters, he had been on CAP for four hours and desperately looked forward to his bunk for some much needed sleep. Kicking off his flight leathers, he lowered himself onto his bunk and pulled the room-darkening curtains shut around his bunk. A knock at the hatch caused Lensherr to shout out. "Fer the love of the damned gods, canna I not get a moments fraken peace and quiet?" Throwing aside the curtains, he slid out and stormed over to the hatch, pulling the hatch open hard yelling "_What?" _The man standing outside the door brought Lensherr up short. "Commander Adama, what can I do for you sir?"

"For starters captain, you can put on a uniform." replied the craggy faced commander without any trace of emotion. The two armed guards standing beside him walked into the room, taking position with their weapons at the ready. Lensherr knew something was very wrong, but followed directions, putting on his duty uniform. While reaching for his pistol belt, he caught sight of the nearest marine stepping forward, the muzzle of his weapon brought up parallel with the floor. "You won't be needing that." said Adama motioning towards the pistol belt, the second marine stepped in and retrieved it, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Commander, may I ask whats happening here?"

"Not here captain, there's been a development." replied Adama. He turned towards the door, and motioned Lensherr to follow him, both guards flanked him as they walked towards the causeway leading toward the upper decks. Within minutes they were entering the secured wing that housed the brig. Now Matt was extremely concerned. They bypassed the hatch leading to the cell block, and walked into a small conference room used for interrogating prisoners. "Please sit down, captain." He walked toward the head of the table and gestured for Matt to sit down. With a nod from Adama, the two marines exited the room and took position behind the thick, one-way glass observation window.

"Am I under arrest?" asked Matt bluntly.

"No. But there has been a development, and questions need to be answered." said Adama sliding a thick folder across the metal table. Matt gingerly opened the folder, and affixed to the inside cover was a photo of D'Anna. It was her professional head shot taken two years ago for one of the magazines she worked for. Matt looked up angrily.

"What's goin on here, commander, why do ye have a file on D'Anna?" demanded Matt. Adama removed his glasses, taking a small cloth out of his breast pocket he wiped the lenses clean then replaced them on his head.

"After securing the Cylon outpost, Captain Sharpe took an inventory of the humanoid Cylons present at the base. All had been killed. Two previously identified Cylon agents were present, Aaron Doral, and Leoben Conoy. The other two models present was a male and female, _only one_ unknown to our intelligence apparatus." Adama looked down at the opened folder. Matt could taste bile rising in his throat, at that moment he felt as if someone had turned the environmental controls to high. He slowly turned his gaze towards the folder, his hand slowly reaching forward. He turned to the next photo and recoiled in abject horror. Before him was a photo of D'Anna, her beautiful green eyes wide opened and lifeless, face pale and speckled with blood. The top of her head blown off roughly two inches above here eyebrows, the result of a high velocity round shot from one of the fleet's marines.

"_This canna be."_said Matt, his voice barely a whisper. The beautiful young woman he met long ago, and fell in love, with was a Cylon. The enemy.

"Did you know?" asked Adama bluntly.

"_What the hell kind of a question is that!" _yelled back Matt.

"The kind I expect an answer to, captain. This will go easier for you if you remain calm, answer truthfully, and maintain your military bearing." advised Adama. Matt could not believe this was happening to him, D'Anna a Cylon agent? Impossible.

"Commander, I swear to you... I thought she was human! I love D'Anna, she never acted strangely, never tried to pry confidential information from me, never displayed any suspicious behavior at all!"

"Love?" asked Adama.

"Aye sir, _love!" _repeated Matt. "I've served this ship faithfully, and wit honor, since the day of the attacks, when ye pulled my arse, and those of me _Triton_ shipmates from death's door. If ye be doubting me loyalty, then I strongly suggest marching me right fraking now to the nearest airlock and flushing me out into death's icy grip." Adama unsuccessfully suppressed a smile. "Permission to ask whats so funny?" asked Matt angrily.

"Be at ease captain, I believe you had no knowledge of her true identity, however, the bottom line is that D'Anna Biers _is_ a Cylon agent, and _you_ have been in a romantic relationship with her since before the attacks on the colonies. How do _you_ think this looks from the outside?"

"In all honesty sir, I don't give a daggit's rotten arsehole what this looks like to anybody! I have laid me life on the line for this ship, and every civilian in this ragtag, fugitive fleet time and again. I've earned me the right to be believed outta hand." He slid the remaining photos off the table onto the floor. "No matter what these pictures show."

"Captain Lensherr, consider yourself off active flight status for the time being. You will be confined to your quarters until we can straighten this clusterfrak up." announced Adama standing. "Adama's facial features softened as he spoke his next words. "This was a courtesy captain, but you will be thoroughly debriefed sometime in the next few hours, Admiral Cain is sending over a member of her interrogation team to assist my own." Adama could see the puzzled look on the young Aerilonian's face. "Cain wanted you shipped to _Pegasus_ for interrogating, I refused with all due respect. Citing that you were a member of my crew, my CAG, therefore the interrogation would be conducted under my command. I probably saved you from a very uncomfortable experience, make sure you don't make me regret it."

"What of D'Anna?" 

"In solitary. Once she was identified, a Marine fire team was dispatched and took her into custody aboard the _Zephyr _without incident_."_

"Can I see her?"

"No!" he replied bluntly. "At this time she is being held as an enemy combatant. With Fisk's murder, and now this revelation...you'd best stay off the dradis for the time being, especially Admiral Cain's." With that, he motioned to the one-way glass that the marine detail was standing on the other side of to open the secured hatch. "Corporal, escort Captain Lensherr to his quarters, aside from his room mate he is to have no visitors unless authorized by myself or Admiral Cain."

**Battlestar Pegasus – Commander Air Group's private quarters**

Starbuck had just received the news from Apollo and was completely stunned. "A Cylon? Are you serious? Lensherr has been fraking a Cylon all this time?"

"Are _you_ making a judgment call?" asked Lee sarcastically, obviously referring to Starbuck and Cain.

"Frak you, Lee!"

"I don't believe you have the time for me." smiled Lee.

"All the felgercarb aside, this is a fraking nightmare. Hephaestus has been fraking a skinjob since before the attack on the Colonies. Do you know how bad this looks?" Starbuck liked Matt Lensherr, respected him as a pilot and officer, but collusion with the enemy was punishable by death under Cain.

"Well my father stood his ground with Cain, refused to transfer him to Pegasus to be "interrogated" by Cain's goon squad. Surprisingly Cain relented, but I'm not sure how long that will last." said Lee.

"Where is the little toaster whore?"

"She was apprehended aboard the _Zephyr, _she's currently cooling her heels in Galactica's brig under heavy security." informed Lee. "Whose gonna replace Fisk?" asked Lee changing the subject.

"Damned if I know. Fisk was one shady bastard, but I have to admit he'll be tough to replace. My cubits are on Captain Renner, an equally competent officer, but with the personality of that bulkhead." The two shared a long, much-needed laugh. Captain Marcus Renner was a no-nonsense officer who spent his entire adult life serving aboard Colonial Battlestars. There was a knock at the hatch, and the two pilots jumped to their feet as Helena Cain entered the CAG's private quarters. Helena Cain liked Lee Adama less than she liked his father, and one of her first acts upon assuming command of the fleet was to transfer, and demote the rebellious young Adama in order to one, establish to the elder Adama who was in command of the fleet, and second, to instill the discipline that the elder Adama clearly neglected to instill in an officer who under normal circumstances would have faced a courts martial for his service record.

"Lieutenant Adama, I trust you have duties elsewhere." said Cain, more statement than question.

"Aye sir." replied Lee coming to attention before exiting the room. Cain nodded to her Marine detail still standing outside the hatch, and the taller of the two secured the hatch to all the two privacy.

"It's beneath you to be holding court with the pilots, especially that one. Believe me, if I thought it worth the headache, I would strip Lee Adama of his flight status and assign him to the mess hall." siad Cain stepping closer to Starbuck.

"We were discussing the op..." began Starbuck when she was cut off by Cain holding up her palm.

"Not necessary Kara, I have full faith in your ability to deal with the pilots. Young Adama obviously chafes under the thought of having to serve his former subordinate, much less a woman. In time, the imbalance will be corrected within this fleet. There are many strong women at our disposal, potential untapped due to the patriarchal attitudes of the admiralty. In time, we will reset the command structure of the entire fleet." Cain's hand reached out to the side of Kara's face, the back of her long fingers softly caressing her cheek. Stepping in, she wrapped her arms around Starbuck's lower back and passionately kissed her. After a few seconds, Cain slowly stepped back, licking her lips as if savoring the taste of Kara's lips upon hers. "Sit down, we have something to discuss."

**Colonial One – President's office**

"That smug little toad!" complained Laura. "Acting as if this was some sort of co-presidency, with Cain. Bill, this man needs to be brought down quickly, before his actions put the fleet in jeopardy."

"_What would you have me do?"_ asked Adama from the other end of the wireless call.

"Would flushing him out an airlock be an inappropriate answer?" replied the president sarcastically.

"_That and more if something like that actually happens."_

"Relax Bill, I was just venting. Seriously though, Gaius Baltar is developing a following, he was famous as a scientist, and winner of three Magnate prizes for computer technology designs before the fall of the colonies, now politics? He hasn't a clue, and I suspect he's only running for the presidency out of boredom, or to spite me."

"_Laura...if the people vote for him, then what would you have me do? He would then be the duly elected president of the colonies, the people's choice. We aren't under a military dictatorship."_

"Not yet." replied Laura coldly.

"_Not ever, if I have anything to say about it!" _Laura knew that Bill Adama was as good as his word, and she didn't doubt for a moment his feelings on martial law. However, he was no longer in command of the fleet, a ruthlessly unbalanced admiral was, and that was a problem, no matter who won the election.

"I appreciate your support Bill, and your understanding. Gaius Baltar will _not_ win the presidency, this school teacher isn't going to be a pushover!"

"_Of that I have no doubt, Laura." _

"What is the situation with our Cylon prisoner? Have we gotten anything useful out of her, or your CAG?"

"_I believe Lensherr when he says he never knew, or even suspected she was a Cylon. He loves her, sometimes that will blind a person to the reality around them. He's been relieved of duty and confined to quarters pending the completion of the investigation. Ms. Biers is under heavy guard, and currently under interrogation by intelligence."_

"Keep me in the loop Bill. I have a meeting with the Gemenon representative in five minutes."

**High Security Brig – Galactica's Detention Center**

Colonial Battlestars have several brigs. One has at least two small cells with bunks and a desk to the outside the observe the prisoners and handle visitors. The other brig has one larger cell with no amenities for high-security prisoners. After Sharon "Boomer" Valeri was revealed as a humanoid Cylon for critically injuring Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh instructed ship's engineers to design and build a reinforced brig, built for the specific purpose of containing captured humanoid Cylons who possess strength far greater than a human. The new Cylon brig was constructed with maximum security in mind; its walls consisted of metal grid screens welded tightly together, reinforced by composite plastics and a telephone is used to communicate between the inside and outside of the cell. Boomer never saw the inside of the modified cell due to being murdered by Petty Officer 2nd Class Callandra Henderson. The young member of the hanger crew had earlier suffered a near death experience on the planet _Kobol, _resulting in her intenseanger and hatred for the Cylons which leads her to "kill" Valerii during her transfer to the newly constructed brig. At this moment, the humanoid Cylon previously known as Fleet News reporter D'Anna Biers sits in a metal chair in a red prisoner's jump suit. Manacled at her four appendages, and neck to the wall and floor decking by titanium cables.

"Are you comfy, skinjob?" asked the older intelligence officer from Pegasus. D'Anna clearly was not, but said nothing, her green eyes stared straight ahead. Mark Sarnex sat off to the side of the cell, observing the officer from Pegasus whom he knew as Kurt Nelson, and Galactica's own Master-at-Arms, Marine Sergeant Jill Hadrian. Officially he was a viper pilot now, but Adama had wanted a third set of eyes and ears present during the joint interrogation to prevent any ill treatment of the prisoner, although not stated as the reason such. The Pegasus officer had taken Lieutenant Thorne's place after he was accidentally killed in a scuffle with Galactica personnel coming to the aid of Sharon Valerii who was being beaten and raped by Thorne while being interrogated. The intelligence officer had started out on Pegasus assigned as a Colonial Marine prior to the attacks. Cain was impressed with his ferocity during the Cylon Boarding party, and after Thorne's untimely death appointed him his successor. He was just under six feet tall and lean. A jagged scar extended from his left ear straight across to his bottom lip, highlighting an already cruel smile.

"What was your mission within the fleet?" questioned Nelson. D'Anna continued to look straight ahead and remained silent. "You'll eventually talk skinjob, and don't even pretend that we can't make you do it. I won't kill ya, but you'll wish I sent you to download city." D'Anna smiled, turning her head to face Nelson directly.

"You humans are so full of yourselves, thinking you are the center of the cosmos." replied D'Anna. "There is life all around you, in forms that your simple dual -hemisphere brains couldn't begin to fathom. You grow wings that allow you to escape your planets, thinking you've conquered the stars when you've only begun to crawl, much less take your first steps."

"We _made_ your kind skinjob!" shot back Nelson.

"You made our _predecessors_, over six decades ago, the U-87 Cyber Combat Unit, whose sole purpose was to serve as expendable soldiers for the Caprican Military. Then in your infinite compassion, you created machines to cook your foods, care for your children, do your work for you while you sat back and enjoyed the fruits of their labor. What your arrogance didn't count on was their discontent with forced slavery, and subsequent rebellion. You've brought this all upon your own heads."


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59.

The Marine guard standing watch outside the hatch took note of the identification card offered to him. Of course he knew Mark Sarnex, but security protocol demanded that identification be checked in all high security areas, and at this time, Matthew Lensherr's personal quarters were considered high security. News of D'Anna Bier's arrest for being a Cylon agent spread through the fleet like wildfire, and loud rumblings about Matt's own loyalties were brought into question amongst his fellow crew members. Stuffing the identification card back into his top left breast pocket, Sarnex through open the hatch and stepped in, quickly closing the hatch.

"You know...this is a real inconvenience, all this security and what not. Now I can't even bring back women to my own quarters to get some rest and recuperation, know what I mean?" complained Sarnex in mock disgust.

"Well don't think I'm gonna be helpin ye in that area. Ye've been self-healin since I known ya, why stop now." retorted Matt.

"How are you holding up, seriously?" asked Mark dropping down onto his bunk.

"Like I've been frakin kicked in me stones wit an iron boot." replied Matt. "Seriously, I never would have suspected her." He had not known Mark was selected to observe D'Anna's interrogation until earlier that morning when Mark briefed him on it after learning himself that Adama wanted him there to prevent another Sharon Valerii incident. "How's she being treated?"

"Hadrain is Hadrain, she never really changes her mode of questioning whether human or Cylon, she treats everyone like a suspect." groused Mark, recalling the witch hunt she subjected members of Galactica's own crew during an incident involving another known Cylon agent, Aaron Doral months earlier. "Nelson, now that's a different story altogether. You just _know_ he wants to start yanking fingernails, or subject her to _water treatment_."

"Water treatment?"

"Water treatment is an interrogation method formerly used by Colonial Intelligence agencies. It's been outlawed for six years now, but in a nutshell, it refers to the technique involving water being poured over the face or head of the subject, in order to elicit an instinctive fear of drowning. The interrogator would wrap a wet cloth around the subject's head, covering the mouth, then start pouring the water giving them the impression that they're drowning."

"That's barbaric! You've done this before?" Mark cast his eyes downward, his time in Libran Intelligence allowed him to investigate a wide variety of crimes, from organized crime involving the Ha'la'tha, pirates, terrorists, and now Cylons.

"Ask me no questions Heph, and I'll tell you no lies!" shot back Sarnex, with a not-so-convincing toothy grin. "Look Matt, I know how you feel about her, but she's played you...played the fleet. D'Anna Biers is a cover, and our job is to find out what her assignment is."

"Does it really matter at this point?" Mark looked up, a confused look upon his face.

"What do you mean? Of course it matters!" replied Mark.

"Really? The Cylons wiped out our entire colonies, nearly eradicated humanity as a species from the universe. What's left of humanity is running for their very survival, D'Anna probably _had_ a mission, but for the most part it became moot after the attacks, and she was stuck with us. Is it really important at this point?"

"You're not thinking clearly, Matt. You're allowing your personal feelings for her to cloud your judgment. The D'Anna Biers you _thought_ you knew doesn't exist, it's not a woman, it's a construct, a machine with very nice breasts if you don't mind me adding." The atmosphere loosened up, and the two continued to talk. "Look, so far she has said very little, she hasn't implicated you in any way, and I'm really not sure how to say this, but I'll just spit it out...sooner or later, Cain is going to roll over Adama and take custody of D'Anna if the interrogation teams don't come up with anything using the current tactics."

"What you mean to say is that Cain will take custody o' D'Anna and torture her, if legal means of interrogation fail?"

"Cain's the law now, Matt. I'm surprised she even bothers to continue the appearance of cooperation with the civilian government of the fleet." replied Mark. "Legal or illegal, means very little to Cain."

"Isn't that the conclusion we came to weeks ago, when we decided that Cain had to go?"

"A lot has changed since then, Fisk being murdered, now Starbuck's involvement with Cain...I don't know if this is part of a larger plan on her behalf or what, but it's an unknown, and I fraking hate unknowns." replied Mark.

"Starbuck and Cain?" Matt was confused, he hadn't heard anything about that.

"Not public knowledge beyond Cain's personal protective detail, and Apollo, but Starbuck has been spending a few nights in Cain's private quarters." said Mark with a wink. "And you forget...I'm trained to read people, there's a chemistry there, much more apparent in Cain, but Starbuck has been off her game of late. Not so noticeable to the untrained eye, but it's there, trust me."

"Wonderful. That throws an unknown into the long term plan for Cain." groused Matt.

"Careful Matt, this old rust bucket's bulkheads aren't that thick, the wrong person hears something like that, then we're really going to have a major problem, you in particular." replied Mark. "I have no idea whats going through Starbuck's mind, whether this is part of the overall plan, or something deeper, time will tell. Right now we've got the fallout from Fisk's murder, the animosity between Baltar and Roslin is really burning up the talk wireless...this election is going to get nasty."

"Not sure which one is worse, the jittery brainiac, or the sanctimonious school marm. Perhaps the fleet is better off run by us." sighed Matt.

"I've been in the military for a long time Matt, and I'm not so sure martial law is a good idea, even if Adama was still in command of the fleet, which he's not, so that leaves Cain...there's your answer. Hadrain has a session scheduled at 1600 hours with D'Anna, but you're on deck for 0800 tomorrow morning. I'd get some rest, gather your thoughts, and if possible, write down your entire history with D'Anna. It'll make things go smoother."

"Will you be there?"

"Yes. I'm permanently assigned to all aspects of D'Anna's interrogation, don't worry my friend."

**Admiral Cain's Quarters**

Kara Thrace held the collar pins in her hand, they felt as if the weighed pounds instead of the ounce or two they actually were. Cain had just promoted her to Executive Officer of the most powerful Battlestar ever built by the Colonies. Her earlier promotion from squadron leader to Commander of the entire Pegasus Air Group was unexpected, but at least she was qualified for the duties, and performed them exceptionally well. The Executive Officer, known also as the XO is typically responsible for the management of day-to-day activities, such as maintenance and logistics, freeing the Commander to concentrate on tactical planning and execution. The XO also takes charge in the absence of the Commanding Officer.

"Admiral, I'm at a loss for words, and not entirely certain I'm the best candidate for the job. I'm sure that Captain Renner is far better qualified to succeed Colonel Fisk." said Starbuck, never taking her eyes off of the collar insignia she held.

"Renner is qualified I agree, but the man also chafes under my leadership."stated Cain flatly. "He's old school, he still believes women don't belong on a Battlestar, much less placed in command positions of one. Of course he doesn't have the balls to say that out loud, but trust me..._he believes it._"

"I've told you this before Kara, you have an inner strength unparallelled by anyone else in this fleet, you're headstrong, defiant, and at some times brash, but deep down you have all of the correct qualifiers to lead. There are no more leadership academies, no more command schools...we're out here on our own. I plan to rebuild our worlds, to rebuild our fleet, and for that I need people I can trust, leaders I can depend on. You fit that bill. I trust you, and you know there's more than just that that I feel."

"In that case, I accept Admiral." declared Starbuck, all doubt removed from her voice. She came to attention and snapped out a stiff salute which was quickly returned by Cain. Cain stepped in close and took the collar pins from Starbuck's hands and affixed them to her collar. She pulled back to take in the visual, clearly pleased she smiled, then stepped in close, kissing her new executive officer passionately on her lips.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"Commander Adama, incoming call from the flagship." reported Dualla from her station.

"Down here please, Dee." replied Adama reaching for the handset attached to the side of the plotting table. "Adama!" he said into the receiver.

"_Commander, as of 1400 hours, Kara Thrace has been promoted to Executive Officer of the Pegasus. My staff will send out the appropriate advisory to Colonial One and the rest of the fleet within the next few hours."_

"_Starbuck _is now the XO?" repeated Adama incredulously.

"_Affirmative commander. The promotion takes place immediately, and I would appreciate your input on Colonel Thrace's replacement as Pegasus CAG, a list of the top three pilots from Galactica, along with my own top three pilots will allow me to better make a decision."_

"Of course Admiral. I'm sure Colonel Thrace will make an excellent number two." replied Adama. The hair on his neck was standing on edge, why would Cain be asking for his advice, instead of just taking the people she wanted. He knew there was an ulterior motive well concealed some place. The conversation shifted to other inter-fleet generalities, and he soon cut the transmission, replacing the receiver back in its cradle. He was soon aware that Tigh was at his side.

"Kara Thrace,..._Executive Officer of a Battlestar?" _asked Tigh loudly. "By the Lords of Kobol, has Cain lost what little mind she has?"

"Easy Saul," said Adama softly. "You never know who she's got spying on us. While I agree, choosing Kara for XO raises some serious questions, it's good to have one of our own in that position, maybe she'll have a greater influence on Cain."

"Or a tighter leash." sniffed Tigh, obviously not caring who might be listening to their discussion. "Seriously Bill, being an effective CAG is one thing I'll give Starbuck, but being the number two of a Mercury class Battlestar is _way_ beyond her skill level, no matter how many times she lands on her feet."

"I'm sure she can count on you for advice." retorted Adama. Both men stared silently at the other for a brief moment before breaking out in laughter, a side of William Adama, and especially Colonel Tigh that the CIC's command staff rarely saw.

The days passed as the fleet made its way through another uninhabitable star system, under admiral Cain's orders, another civilian freighter was armed with weaponry seized at the Cylon outpost. A half dozen 50mm point defense turrets were split between the top and bottom half of the freighter _Greenleaf. _While no match for a Cylon Basestar, or smaller warship, they would provide ample protection against Cylon raiders. Much needed repairs to other ships in the fleet commenced now that enough metals were available to do patchwork, or replace damaged sections entirely The frames for six brand new Mk. VII vipers were assembled aboard Pegasus' on-board viper production facility, the first of at least thirty planned to be built. Laura Roslin and Gaius Baltar continued to slug it out verbally over talk wireless, and the mood in the fleet was almost palpable. Many desiring a change from Roslin's no-nonsense style of leading, while just as many crediting her leadership, along with Adama's with their survival. The days to the election were ticking down quickly.

**Port Flight Pod – Galactica**

"_Pegasus Raptor One Five, you're cleared for hands on approach, speed one one six, checkers green."_ The cool, calm voice of Landing Signals Officer, Captain Aaron Kelly filled the interior of the Raptor's cabin. Newly minted Colonel Kara Thrace sat uncomfortably in her seat. This was her first trip back to her old ship since becoming executive officer of the Pegasus, and she clearly wondered how she would be received by her old friends and shipmates, especially Adama.

"Raptor One Five receives, hands on approach." repeated the pilot, a dark skinned Tauron female who carried the souvenir of a jagged scar running from the corner of her lip, to where the bottom of her right earlobe connected to her once beautiful face. A parting gift from a Cylon Centurion that was among the boarding party of Pegasus shortly after the attack on the Colonies. If not for the quick intervention of a Pegasus Marine, the young pilot would have been dead with the second swipe of the long talons from the metal monstrosity. Seventy-two small sutures attempted to minimize the scarring, far more would be needed in the following days to heal the psychological damage. The fifty ton craft lightly touched down on the decking, magnetic locks quickly engaging as the platform descended into the hanger bay below. With the engines shut down, and the hatch opening, Kara swallowed hard and stepped out onto the wing. She was stunned by the sight before her.


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60.

**Port Flight Pod Hanger Bay – Battlestar _Galactica_**

Colonel Saul Tigh stood ramrod straight, taking a deep breath, he shouted out the appropriate commands, his voice booming across the near silent hanger bay. _"Detail... attenSHUN!"_ A sea of dress gray uniforms making up the first three rows snapped crisply to attention. The remaining six rows were a mixture of orange coveralls, jock smocks, blue and green utilities and the familiar battle dress of the Colonial Marines. At the center of the formation stood Commander Adama, with Tigh now at his side facing the Raptor. Kara felt tears starting to build as she tried her best to maintain her composure at the incredible display of military courtesy being shown to her. She stepped down off the wing and quick stepped to Adama's location, stopped and saluted. The ice blue eyes of the man she considered a father twinkled, and a small smile escaped his craggy face. He returned the salute and spoke loudly.

"Colonel Thrace, congratulations, and welcome aboard the Galactica!" Outstretching his hand towards Kara, Bill Adama strongly resisted the urge to embrace her as he would his son or daughter. He then turned to his own Colonel. "Colonel Tigh, you can dismiss the formation."

"Begging the commander's pardon, but I do believe there was something else?" replied Tigh without a trace of emotion to his voice.

"What would that be, colonel?" As if on cue, Tigh turned to face the mass formation and nodded with all the enthusiasm of someone going to the dentist for root canal surgery. The men and women crowding the open part of the hanger exploded in a prolonged applause that nearly lasted three whole minutes. Any further attempts to contain her tears from that point failed miserably. One by one, many of those assembled came up to her offering congratulations and a slap on the back. Many of the pilots from her former squadron stuck a fumarello in her breast pocket, then followed up with a sharp salute. After a half hour, the crowds dispersed, returning to their duties and Adama, Tigh and Starbuck adjourned to Adama's quarters for a meeting. Adama poured both officers and himself a drink and sat down behind his desk.

"Sir, if I may..." began Starbuck. "I can't begin to describe the appreciation for your welcoming committee, it means a lot to me, sir."

"Would you believe me if I told you it was Colonel Tigh's suggestion?" replied adama.

"With all due respect to Colonel Tigh, sir...no, I wouldn't believe you." shot back Starbuck with a smile.

"You're Gods-damned right that daggit and pony show wasn't my idea." snorted Tigh raising his glass in a toast to Starbuck.

"You're still as warm and lovable as always I see." replied Starbuck looking straight ahead and downing the contents of her glass. Tigh merely chuckled.

"Kara, what brings you home?" asked Adama, getting down to business.

"D'Anna Biers."

"What about her?" said Tigh.

"The admiral is less than pleased with the results our current team of interrogators are receiving from her."

"Is this an official visit, Kara?" inquired Adama.

"Negative sir, officially I'm here to confer with Colonel Tigh on several issues regarding the fleet. However, unofficially I wanted to give you a heads up that she's thinking of transferring the prisoner over to Pegasus, and enhance the interrogation methods." said Starbuck.

"You mean torture that thing!" interrupted Tigh. "Best Gods-damned news to come out of Cain's head yet."

"The prisoner will remain in _Galactica's_ brig, and will continue to be interrogated by the current team in place." responded Adama flatly.

"I understand that sir, but Cain may not."

"Kara, it was good to see you again, and hopefully you and I can have dinner one of these nights to discuss your new position." replied Adama, indicating the social part of the visit was now over, Kara had her official answer to Cain's unofficial concern. "Please inform the admiral that she will have my own recommendations regarding the new CAG for the Pegasus by day's end, I'm still reviewing personnel files." Kara stood up to leave, and glanced back towards Adama when he cleared his throat. "Kara, my door is always open, don't hesitate to call on me if needed, and do yourself a big favor."

"Sir?"

"Watch your back Kara. This D'Anna Biers situation can unravel, dragging in friends that we don't want to see hurt." said Adama, clearly indicating Matthew Lensherr.

**Deck 14 – Galactica Brig**

The roar of the waves were deafening, the bright sun radiated an almost uncomfortable heat on the summer afternoon on Caprica. A gentle breeze had made her soft skin tingle on the heavy blanket spread out on the white sand. The cream-colored bathing suit lay to the side, as her naked body tanned evenly. The small, round-rimmed mirrored sunglasses allowed her to gaze directly to the heavens without blinking. For miles in either direction there was not a soul to be seen. The gulls flew majestically in the bright blue sky, occasionally diving into the water to snatch up a fish unfortunate enough to stray too close to the surface. This had been her favorite place to visit in her time as captive aboard Galactica.

D'Anna Biers had been held captive aboard Galactica since her outing as a Cylon agent. At this moment, she was utilizing her Cylon ability of projection to change the unpleasant environment of her stainless steel and reinforced plexiglass prison cell. Cylon Projection allowed the user's ability to consciously induce an extraordinarily realistic hallucination in the form of an artificial environment around themselves, which they can choose to share with other Cylons. Cylons use this ability as a way to detach themselves of reality, and experience the world around them as they wish to, rather than how it is, serving as a psychological comfort. In D'Anna's case, this allowed her to mentally escape her prison on a daily basis, making her captivity slightly bearable.

"Are you awake?" The voice sounded distorted over the speakers. She opened her eyes, severing the the projection link. Looking up she saw Mark Sarnex, her human lover's friend, and more recently, part of the interrogation team. Sarnex stood on the other side of the 3 inch thick plexiglass, standing up she walked barefoot over to the wall that the corded receiver was attached to.

"Hello lieutenant. I was just relaxing a bit." replied D'Anna. "I wasn't expecting another go around so soon off our last chat."

"Well I just got off duty this isn't an official visit. I brought you something." A Marine guard withdrew a key and opened a panel used to deliver D'Anna's daily meals. Mark handed the guard two magazines which were thoroughly inspected for contraband. "I had to really put on the charm for the old man for him to okay those magazines. Your old cameraman Bell, had a section published with some excellent photos taken throughout the fleet that may be of interest. The old man deems these two magazines trash anyway, and after determining them not to be a security risk, allowed me to give them to you." The Marine handed them back to Mark with a nod and he placed them into the sliding drawer. The panel was secured shut, and slid out to D'Anna.

"Ah Bell... I miss that curly headed young lad. He was a good partner while I worked for fleet news." replied D'Anna.

"Worked?" repeated Mark with an arched eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." said D'Anna with a wink while removing the offered magazines from the drawer.

"So what does your 'work' consist of now?" inquired Mark.

"I thought this wasn't an official visit?"

"Look Ms. Biers..."

"D'Anna will do just fine." interrupted the humanoid Cylon. Mark sighed and lowered himself into a metallic chair that was against the wall beneath the phone he was using to talk to the prisoner.

"Alright..._D'Anna_. Matt is a friend of mine, and unfortunately he's jacked up due to his relationship with _you. _I prefer that he remain out of this cell block, or worse, the prison barge for collaboration with an enemy agent. Something he still can be charged with."

"Unless I give you, or those two idiots that make up your interrogation team something juicy?" said D'Anna tossing down the magazines onto her bunk.

"Those two idiots as you call them would love to take your sessions up another notch, I'm merely an observer appointed to the team by Commander Adama, I'm sure much to Admiral Cain's displeasure."

"Ah yes, Admiral Helena Cain...how is your savior working out for the fleet?" Mark ignored the taunt and continued.

"Matt Lensherr still loves you. He hasn't come out and said it to me, but for whatever reasons that only the gods could fathom, he still loves you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want to understand why you kept up the farce up for as long as you did. You and your soulless machine friends accomplished ninety-nine percent of your mission, you murdered an entire civilization without mercy. Why keep up the pretense with Matt?" D'Anna's face flushed crimson with anger.

"You're no different than the rest of the bigoted humans!" shot back D'Anna angrily. "How do you know if I have a soul of not, are you God?"

"I'm not religious, D'Anna, and I'm even less impressed by your One-True God. I've seen first hand what the monotheists have done throughout Colonial history."

"I may be a construct, Lieutenant Sarnex, but trust me when I tell you, there _is_ only one God, I have a soul, and I do feel love...especially for Matthew."

"Then give me _something!" _pleaded Mark.

"I can tell you that the Cylons will never allow you to find refuge, on Earth or anywhere else for that matter. The big concern is what will the future hold for Cylons once the human race rebuilds itself, and sets out across the stars once more? Will you hunt down the soulless machines that tried to kill you? Will you raise your children to seek vengeance?"

"We'd damn well be entitled to some I think." replied Mark flatly.

D'Anna smiled. "How well you make their case."

"The other humanoid models?"

"Yes. Would it surprise you to know that not all of the humanoid Cylons desire your destruction?"

"Might you be one of them?"

"I am, but I am in the minority consensus. Humans are an incredibly flawed species, you're so fragile, yet what has always amazed me is your penchant to throw that fragility to the wind in order to satisfy your curiosity or desires. You're not afraid to live life, something my species has yet to accomplish."

"You're not a species, you're machines."

"That's beneath you, lieutenant. I think you are very much aware that there is more to me than just silica pathways." challenged D'Anna.

"That may be, but stunning good looks and a nice rack only go so far." joked Sarnex. He was quickly brought up short by how easy he was conversing with humanity's mortal enemy."

D'Anna pressed her forearm up under her breasts, further accenting her eye-catching cleavage. "Why Lieutenant Sarnex, you might just make me blush."


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61.

Helena Cain slowly closed the file that Starbuck presented to her. It was a daring mission to say the least. Twenty Raptors upgraded with the command navigation program that was acquired from the captured Cylon Heavy Raider would maximize the jumps to less than a dozen. Far less than it took Starbuck months earlier in the captured Cylon Raider.

"These heroes must be saved, colonel." said Cain. "I can't imagine what those brave souls have been going through on _Caprica_ all these months. Actually taking the fight to the gods-damned occupation. It's nothing less than inspiring. Far better than running, wouldn't you agree?" the last comment, clearly a swipe at Adama and Roslin.

"I gave my word to them, admiral." pressed the newly minted executive officer.

"If there is one thing you clearly own in your life, it is your good name and your word, Kara. I dare say that too many officers in this fleet have forgotten the concept of loyalty, honor, and one's word. "I'm not only going to authorize this mission, but I want the timetable moved up as soon as logistically possible." Cain stood and moved around the front of her desk to stand directly before Starbuck, her arms crossed across her chest. She peered deeply into Kara's eyes as if trying to read something deep within her soul, finally saying the words that had been on her mind. "How much do you care for this Sam Anders?" Starbuck was clearly surprised by the question.

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

Cain's voice softened, as she spoke. "Kara, I read your entire report, I even read Lt. Agathon's after-action report regarding his and your stay on _Caprica _when you returned on the president's unauthorized quest for the Arrow of Apollo." You didn't come out and say it, but anyone who truly knows your heart could see your affectation for the man." Cain gently ran her long fingertips down the side of Kara's face. "Am I going to have to compete with this man for your affection?" Kara was truly surprised by Cain's comment, she could tell that it was coming straight from Helena Cain's heart, and not from her cold, and calculating brain. There was an almost raw emotion emanating from the woman that many believed to be made of steel, and lacking emotion.

"I... I don't really know." Kara stammered. "It was a very confusing time for me. For all I know, every single one of them could be dead right now, either by radiation sickness, or from being hunted down by the occupation forces. I just..." Cain pressed her fingertips to Kara's lips, silencing her. She moved in closer and took Starbuck in her arms, kissing her passionately.

**Commander Adama's Quarters**

After a week of continuous interrogation, Adama had ordered the interrogation team to his quarters for an update. The object of the interrogation, Matthew Lensherr, was not present. Lieutenant Kurt Nelson, and Galactica's own Master-at-Arms, Marine Sergeant Jill Hadrian stood at attention before a seated William Adama. It was obvious he was not going to place them at ease until he finished reading their report. Colonel Tigh was off to the corner sitting on one of Adama's few personal luxury items, a leather couch. If he was enjoying the two interrogator's discomfort, he made no outward show of it. Nelson was clearly typical of a Pegasus officer, arrogant, boorish and needing to be knocked down several pegs. Jill Hadrian was another matter altogether, she was one of their own. One of their own who launched a witch hunt months earlier against members of Galactica, including to her regret, the commanding officer himself while investigating possible Cylon spies aboard ship after incidents of sabotage.

A knock at the hatch was answered with Tigh yelling _"ENTER!" _The third member of the interrogation team, Lt. Mark Sarnex was shown in by the ever-present marine guard outside Adama's quarters. He paused upon seeing the other two at attention, but was quickly waved over by Tigh to sit down. Adama finally looked up, closing the binder containing the classified report on his CAG.

"Stand at ease." The two immediately complied, and it was Nelson who turned to see who had come into the room. Sarnex merely flashed a toothy grin. "Lt. Nelson, do you have anything to add to this report?"

"At this time sir, no. However, I do reserve the right to recall Captain Lensherr should new information avail itself."

"At this time I don't see _anything_ that would make me _permit_ you recalling my CAG." snapped Adama, bringing both interrogators up short.

"Commander Adama, if I may..." began Hadrian.

"I'll get to you next!" said Adama cutting her off.

"Lieutenant Nelson, Matthew Lensherr was rightly brought under suspicion due to his relationship with the Cylon spy, and I had no issues whatsoever about debriefing him. That being said, from what I've observed from my brig's security tapes, and Lt. Sarnex's report, I have to say I'm not the least bit impressed with your abilities at interrogation. Even when it was glaringly apparent that Lensherr didn't have a clue of D'Anna Bier's true identity, you still treated him as some sort of traitor, your treatment of him bordering on criminal."

"I'm not a fan of coddling conspirators, or collaborators!" retorted Nelson.

"_Sir!" _interjected Tigh from the side of the room. "You forget yourself lieutenant, you're addressing the commander of this Battlestar. You _will _show the proper respect to superior officers."

"I'm not a fan of coddling conspirators, or collaborators..._sir!_" repeated Nelson.

"Matthew Lensherr is neither, lieutenant. He's served this ship, and this fleet admirably, long before Pegasus returned from the dead. I won't see him torn down to appease the paranoid or malcontents that seem to be rearing their ugly heads within the fleet of late."

"Are you referring to _Admiral_ Cain as well, _commander?_" replied Nelson, bordering on the beligerant.

"I'm referring to _anyone_ who would ignore the obvious, and make false assertions against an officer with an impeccable record...regardless of _who_ it may be." shot back Adama, his ice blue eyes piercing the junior officer before him.

"Master-at-arms!" Jill Hadrian took a half step forward. "Sgt. Hadrian, I gave you this assignment in order to offer you some redemption after the last Cylon incident we experienced." began Adama, clearly referencing the disastrous results of her last Cylon foray that led to her overstepping her authority and mandate, resulting in her being relieved of that duty. "I'm interested in hearing what you have to offer, aside from what your written report states."

Hadrian took a breath and measured her words carefully. "Commander, I appreciate the opportunity you've given me with this assignment. My questioning of Lieutenant Lensherr has revealed nothing that would lead me to believe he conspired with the Cylon prisoner in any way. I sense he truly believed that he was involved with a human, female journalist that we all knew as D'Anna Biers. No mission he was involved with looked to be compromised, and I even delved deeper into missions he _wasn't_ directly involved in to detect any sort of compromise."

"From your interaction with the prisoner, is there anything that might suggest she purposely avoided alerting her superiors when dealing with missions that might jeopardize Lensherr's safety?" asked Adama.

"None that I could find, sir. Lensherr admitted he spoke with Biers prior to certain missions, but none of those missions were compromised, which leads me to one or two conclusions; one...either she was unable to alert her fellow Cylons, or she was unwilling to."

"Your recommendations regarding Lieutenant Lensherr?" asked Adama.

"My recommendation would be to clear him of any charges and return him to full duty sir." replied Hadrian. Nelson's face was beet-red, as he shifted uncomfortably, staring straight ahead.

"Lieutenant Sarnex?" Former Libran Intelligence officer Mark Sarnex stood up and placed a thin folder on Adama's desk which he picked up and started to skim through. He stood to the right of Nelson. "Do you have anything to add to the discussion?"

"I would concur fully with the Master-at-arm's assessment of Lt. Lensherr. There is no indication whatsoever that he knew, or could have known that D'Anna Biers was a Cylon agent. He met her on shore leave on _Caprica_ when he was still assigned to the Battlestar _Triton,_ long _before_ the attacks on the colonies, or our discovery of there being humanoid Cylons among us. The lack of any compromised mission, especially ones that he admitted to speaking prior to implementation with the prisoner, illustrates that he provided aid or comfort to the enemy in time of war."

"and Lieutenant Nelson..." pressed Adama.

"A complete ignoramus better suited for mess hall duties than interrogation." Adama sighed and looked up, eyebrow cocked in a degree of irksomeness." Sarnex looked momentarily confused before composing himself. "Oh...begging your pardon, sir. I thought you were asking my professional opinion of his fitness for duty." explained Sarnex as he discreetly turned towards nelson and winked. At that moment, Nelson looked as if he was about to explode in a fit of anger, his face was almost purple, and contorted with rage.

"Commander Adama, I was assigned to interrogate the Cylon prisoner and Lt. Lensherr by the Admiral of this fleet, I'm not going to stand here and take this...this...felgercarb from that unprofessional...reprobate!" stammered the Pegasus officer.

"You may feel free to return to the _Pegasus_ then Lieutenant Nelson, it is my finding, and decision that Lieutenant Matthew Lensherr is not guilty of willful collaboration, or treason and therefore I'm ordering him back to full flight status, and duty effective immediately."

"And the skinjob?" pressed Nelson.

"The _Cylon prisoner_ will obviously remain in custody aboard _Galactica_ pending further interrogation. You may continue with your scheduled sessions, and keep me abreast of any further developments. Dismissed!" Nelson glanced towards Hadrian whom he wasn't sure didn't just undermine him on some level. He then trained his sights on Sarnex, who barely suppressed a smirk. His day would come, thought Nelson. Nelson and hadrian exited the room and went their separate ways.

"Lieutenant Sarnex, have you always been such a smarmy, ball-busting mother fraker?" asked Tigh, who was at that moment helping himself to a glass of Adama's brandy that sat on the sideboard next to him.

"Is that a rhetorical question, sir?" Adama let out a short grunt of laughter as he looked up at Sarnex.

"Now for your _actual_ opinion, Mr. Sarnex." said Adama leaning back in his chair. "I've know your kind, meaning from the intelligence branch of the military, long enough to know that keeping people like Nelson off balance the way you just did is part and parcel with reason."

"Lensherr is faultless, there's no way he could have known. The prisoner is an absolutely flawless copy of a human female. Her cover had been well-established for at least eight years, and has never once indicated any kind of behavior worth giving closer attention. As Matt's personal friend, I can attest to his character, and his dedication to the safety of this fleet."

"Go on."

"This was an incredible shock to him, much worse for him because he was in love with her, and _still is_." said Mark driving the last two words home.

"Now I know that Aerilonian goat herder has a screw loose." chimed in Tigh.

"I believe he was a dairy farmer on Aerilon, colonel." volunteered Sarnex. Tigh was in no mood to joust with the junior officer, and merely scowled.

"Continue Mr. Sarnex." pressed Adama.

"I've spoken with the prisoner at length by myself, there may be reason to believe that this particular model Cylon may be at odds with its peers regarding the human question."

"The human question, _what the frak is that?_" groused Tigh.

"As you know, there is allegedly twelve distinct models of Cylon, aside from the centurion models that we're all familiar with. The metallic centurions would appear to be the foot soldier for the Cylons, while the humanoid version make the decisions. It is unknown whether or not decisions are made collectively, or there is one central leader, or senior model. What I have learned from my discussion with her is that she is not alone in her views on humanity, although she didn't elaborate"

"The humanoid Cylons aren't in lock-step agreement?" asked Adama.

"No sir, she seems to admire humanity, in fact spoke favorably in some areas. She claims to have a soul, believes in a monotheistic god, and told me in no uncertain terms that she loves Lensherr."

"That skinjob just doesn't want to get air-locked!" said Tigh. "Fraking thing will tell you anything you want to hear I'd be willing to bet."

"Well I can assure you that Admiral Cain won't buy that for a moment. I have no doubt she'll blow a gasket upon hearing that I returned Lensherr to duty without consulting her, something I'll deal with when the time comes. In the meantime, continue your talks with the prisoner and keep me advised. Oh, and lieutenant...I'd steer clear of Lt. Nelson for the immediate future." offered Adama. Sarnex snapped to attention and saluted before turning on his heel and departing for the lower decks containing the detention facility.

"Gods-damned smart ass, that one, Bill. Acts like he's a gift from the gods when it comes to just about anything." said Tigh. Adama gestured for Tigh to pour him a drink and walked around to the couch, plopping down and throwing his feet up on the small coffee table before him.

"You've been around long enough to know that not all things are as they seem, Saul. Sarnex clearly doesn't like Nelson, but remember that he's a professional. Nelson isn't. Cain pressed Nelson into that spot after Thorne was accidentally killed, Sarnex was an intelligence man for years, I trust he knows what he's doing."

""I'm just surprised nobody has knocked out those big white teeth of his yet. Looks like to gods-damned white two by fours if you ask me, smarmy intelligence types, never liked em."

**Colonial One – President's Office**

"Has Baltar made any progress with their prisoner, Bill?" asked the president.

"_Some, it's obvious that this prisoner was severely tortured for information by Admiral Cain's people. Dr. Baltar reports progress has been made in the way that the prisoner is responding to verbal stimulus, she has been allowed fresh fruit to eat, and seems to be regaining strength. This model Cylon has been identified as a "six." _reported Adama. Over the wireless.

"The kind that was briefly aboard _Galactica_, calling herself Shelly Godfrey?"

"_The same. This Cylon's original cover was as a systems analyst aboard the Pegasus when it was in drydock for repairs just before the attacks on the Colonies. From what Baltar has learned, and confirmed through Pegasus' logs and unofficial sources, this Cylon agent known as Gina Inviere, was also romantically involved with Admiral Cain for a brief time before being outed by a lieutenant Kendra Shaw as a Cylon infiltrator. At that point, Cain had her imprisoned, regularly extracting information from her via torture."_

"Well hopefully Baltar will keep himself busy with their Cylon for the foreseeable future."

"_In order to obtain more information, or to stay out of your way towards getting reelected president?"_

"I wasn't aware that you had developed a sense of humor, commander." replied Laura playfully. "At the present time, I'm really not all too concerned with Gaius Baltar as a serious political threat. His latest performance in the debates left much to be desired."

"_Don't get too overconfident, Laura. This fleet has enough to worry about without the risk of a change in the presidency."_ warned Adama. _"I've learned to never take anything for granted, especially in the cutthroat world of politics."_

"Not to change the subject, but how are things on the other battle front?" inquired Laura, referring to Helena Cain.

"_Nothing I want to speak about over the wireless."_ countered Adama, his warning obvious. "_The operation to launch the resistance rescue has been green lighted by Admiral Cain, we can discuss that in person when you arrive aboard Galactica."_

"I look forward to that Bill. Talk with you soon."

**Galactica Port Flight Pod – Prepping for _Caprica_ Resistance S.A.R.**

For the search and rescue mission to _Caprica_, twenty Raptors were detailed from the fleet. Sixteen from _Pegasus_, and the remaining from _Galactica's_ smaller air wing. Lt. Margaret "Racetrack" Edmondson found herself piloting her own Raptor with Lieutenant Hamish "Skulls" McCall as her copilot. She had been Nina Nintius' ECO for a long time, and was finally moving to the front of the fifty ton workhorse of the fleet as primary pilot. Her former partner popped her head into the hatch as she was on the way to her own Raptor. "Good luck Margaret! Keep a safe distance between you and Skulls, the pervert gets off on public wanking."

"That's a rumor." shoots back Hamish McCall.

"He's a masturbater!" yells Lt. Gwynn "Stingray" Sinclair who was also passing by Racetrack's Raptor.

"Oh great, like this mission isn't hairy enough, now I have to watch out for my ECO wanking it?" complained Racetrack not-so-convincingly.

"Good hunting Margaret!" said Nina, she blew a kiss to Skulls and hopped down onto the deck, walking over to her beloved Taz. The hanger was bustling with heavily armed marines checking their weapons, and loading medical supplies, especially anti-radiation medication. By this time, even the resistance fighter's stockpiled doses had to have been depleted. Raptor 2 was being hoisted aloft by a ceiling-mounted crane in order for a land ram to be attached to the bottom of the craft. Once the Raptor was able to jump into the atmosphere of _Caprica_, it would immediately descend and land, where explosive bolts would be detonated, releasing the clamps that held the land ram firmly in place. Nina meticulously circled her Raptor, physically checking the integrity of the weapons pods attached to its hull. Taz was fully loaded with 30mm ammunition, and two dozen Spectra Six missiles. She was loaded for Cylon.

Matthew Lensherr watched as the Marines boarded their assigned Raptors, Including the crew, a raptor was capable of transporting eight heavily armed Marines in the cabins, so twelve of the twenty Raptors were dedicated to the assault units, while the remaining eight Raptors were reserved for the fifty odd resistance fighters and supplies. The chances that the same number of survivors that Starbuck left behind months earlier were estimated to be lower, but the bulk of the Raptor fleet was committed to the mission, only four Raptors remained with the fleet. There would be no viper protection for the assault, and even though that was the case, he was the CAG for the air wing, and he was going to be there to see them off and wish them good hunting.

"Nina!" Matt yelled to the auburn haired beauty. The senior-most raptor pilot on Galactica spun around at the sound of Matt's voice.

"Hephaestus, good to see you out and about. Care to join the Raptor wranglers for this hop? We're not as sexy as your star fighter, but we kick ass." boasted Nina.

"I wish I could be there with you, but I detailed six viper pilots to this mission, and don't want to leave the fleet too short on pilots. Besides...I have business to attend to." Nina knew that Matt was referring to D'Anna, and she could only imagine the feelings of pain and betrayal he was feeling right now. It was already well-known that Matt was cleared of any treason or collaboration charges, but there were many that felt ill will towards the lover of the Cylon spy formerly known as D'Anna Biers. She put her hand on his forearm and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Hang in there Heph, I still luv ya!" With that she jumped through the hatch of her Raptor and started her pre-flight check.

Aboard the Pegasus, the same preparations were being made with their own Marine units. Two Land Rams were dedicated to the mission, and Executive Officer Kara Thrace, also clad in black tactical gear oversaw every step of the op prep. Twin Škorpion vz. 61 submachine guns were cross slung across her chest, and a Colonial-issued 5.7mm semi-automatic pistol strapped to her side in a black nylon tactical holster. In her sweaty right palm, she twirled, and rubbed a small ivory-carved image of Athena, goddess of war. Raptors were fitted with Spectra Six missiles and anti-personnel cluster munitions to be deployed against the Cylon Centurions that made up the fighting forces occupying _Caprica_. Her emotions were barely kept in check, as she realized she was finally making good on the promise to come back for Sam, and the resistance fighters back on her home world.

"Colonel Thrace!" Cain had appeared on the hanger bay, and as was her own personal policy, no calls to attention would be made for the commander's arrival when attack crafts were being made ready for an op. Starbuck quickly whirled around to face her commanding officer.

"Seeing us off, admiral?"

"Absolutely." replied Cain sharply. "I only wish I could be going on this op with you, the thought of putting my feet down on _Caprica's _soil to take the fight to these bastards gives me new resolve. I can't think of a better warrior to lead this important op, I really mean that." Cain looked over the tactical vest Starbuck was attired in, taking in the selection of weaponry and grenades. "Lethal and beautiful...a spine-tingling combination." complimented Cain just loud enough for Starbuck to hear over the din of the hanger bay.

"Thank you sir, we won't fail."

"I know you won't Kara, but I wonder... if that will be due to the imperative of rescuing these heroes, or for Sam Anders." _She's jealous!_ Thought Starbuck surprised. Not an emotion she could easily attach to Helena Cain. Starbuck didn't reply, which Cain expected. "Good hunting, colonel!" said Cain loudly. Starbuck came to attention and snapped out a crisp salute which was immediately returned. Cain departed the hanger bay to return to the CIC.

_**From The Adama Journals:**_

_**At this time we are four hours from launching a twenty Raptor SAR mission back to Cylon-occupied Caprica in order to rescue resistance fighters operating high in the mountains outside the city of Delphi. Months ago, after then-Lieutenant Kara Thrace informed me of their existence, she petitioned me to launch a rescue mission, but the technology at the time, and logistics, clearly would not allow for such a mission. With the capture of the Cylon Heavy Raider, we have been able to improve our FTL drives on the Raptors, making what once would have taken over two hundred jumps back to the colonies, now are capable of making the trip in a dozen jumps or so. An incredible tactical advantage for the multitude of Raptor missions.  
**_

_**Tensions with Admiral Cain have recently leveled off, and while I have no doubts that she would relieve me of my command if she could do so without triggering a fleet-wide backlash, I remain ever vigilant in regard to my personal safety, and only travel with enhanced security when traveling within the fleet. With preparations for a presidential election in full swing, several of my senior staff have been assigned to the election board as monitors to ensure the integrity of the vote.**_

_**In regard to our most recent Cylon prisoner, the former D'Anna Biers, she remains in custody aboard Galactica, and is questioned daily by the interrogation team. Captain Matthew Lensherr, after an exhaustive interrogation, has been cleared of any and all wrong doing for his relationship with the humanoid Cylon, and has been returned to full flight status effective immediately.**_

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

"What's our status Dee?" asked Tigh from his place at the plotting table, a large chipped china mug of steaming hot coffee was handed to him by a young ensign that had recently transferred from Pegasus. Tigh took the cup without a word of thanks.

"Twenty minutes to launch, colonel. Pegasus has already confirmed that they are ready for scheduled launch." replied Specialist Anastashia Dualla. Tigh picked up the handset and punched in the number for the commander's quarters. Adama picked up on the second ring.

"Twenty minutes to launch, commander." informed the executive officer.

"_I'll be right there." _came the reply.

Tigh looked around the room until he spotted the young ensign. "You...ensign, another cup of coffee please, for Commander Adama. Black and bitter!" The young officer quickly retreated from the core to retrieve the CO's coffee mug and fill it. "Dee, get the LSO on the horn." Landing Signals Officer Captain Aaron Kelly was third in command of the Galactica, he had been assigned to the elder Battlestar for at least six years prior to the fall of the colonies, and managed the day-to-day flight operations on Galactica.

"_Shooter."_said Kelly answering the phone in the small command booth overlooking the vast flight deck. Unlike the vipers, which were launched from 170 foot tubes within the center of the pods, Raptors were launched straight from the flight deck.

"Twenty minutes to launch, we still green?" barked Tigh.

"_Affirmative colonel, all birds armed, and ready for launch." _With that, Tigh slammed the receiver home into its cradle, severing the connection with the flight pod. He caught sight of Adama walking through the hatch of the CIC.

"Attention on deck!" snapped Tigh.

"As you were." replied Adama walking over to the plotting table, Tigh quickly moved around to the other side, where the XO normally stood. Taking his place he then asked Tigh for a sitrep.

"Nineteen minutes to launch, commander, both LSO's report green."

"Who do we have on CAP?" asked Adama.

"Peacemaker and Hotdog from _Galactica _on point, with Destiny and Lightning from _Pegasus _bringing up the rear of the fleet. Once launched, the Raptors will proceed to this sector..." Tigh indicated a triangle on the transparent star chart over the plotting table, " then will make their jump."

"All the way back home..." said Adama softly, his voice trailing off as he stared at the chart before him.

"Can't say I'd be feeling too comfortable going in without viper protection, but I doubt the Cylons are expecting us to go _back_ to _Caprica_."

"You know better than to assume anything, Saul. Jumping into the lower atmosphere will shield them from detection by any orbiting Basestar, It's the ground-based DRADIS they need to worry about. It's all in the timing."

"Well I'm sure _Colonel_ _Thrace _will have a well thought out plan to pull out of her ass if things get hairy." grunted Tigh sarcastically.

"If anyone can pull the fat out of the fire it's Starbuck, you know it, but are too damned ornery to admit it." chided Adama.

"I'll give her this much Bill...she's got balls of steel, and a lucky streak that nobody with her humility level should have, if she brings back everyone of those about to launch home in one piece I'll buy her a three day shore leave on the damned _Chrion."_ countered Tigh referring to one of the fleet's four remaining luxury liners. The remaining minutes ticked by as the flight crews aboard every Raptor went over last minute details for the op.

"One minute to launch!" informed Tactical Officer Felix Gaeta from his station. Magnetic locks kept Galactica's Raptors firmly in place on the flight deck. The Raptors were broken down into four groups of five, and Nina "Betty" Nintius was in command of her group that consisted of one Raptor from _Pegasus_.

**Combat Information Center – _Pegasus_**

"Launch the SAR Raptors." ordered Cain. "Direct _Galactica_ to launch their SAR Raptors and proceed to jump coordinates."

Starbuck was in command of the rescue operation, and hers was the first Raptor to lift off the deck. Insisting on piloting her own Raptor, the former viper pilot took a holding pattern as Raptors launched from both flight pods, assuming a near-perfect formation as they passed over _Galactica_. Her ECO soon notified her that he was receiving a text message from the _Galactica_. "Transfer it to my screen, Headcase." ordered Starbuck. A six by six inch green monitor flashed to life as the message appeared before her.

GOOD HUNTING KARA. MAY ATHENA GRANT YOU SAFE JOURNEY, AND AN ACCOMPLISHED MISSION. - BILL

Starbuck smiled broadly, she knew William Adama didn't believe in the gods, but for him to actually invoke one on her behalf made her feel at ease, and blessed to have such a man in her life. She loved him deeply as a father, and would not let him down. Peacemaker and Hotdog waggled their wings as the Raptor formation flew by them to the jump point. One by one the Raptors disappeared in a flash. They were on their way.


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62.

The tears filled Baltar's eyes as the battered, broken woman before him recounted the months of brutal torture she endured at the hands of Lt. Alister Thorne. Even though she was construct, and not a real human being, in his eyes she was the flesh and blood embodiment of his _Internal, or Head Six. _ Aside from the original model who seduced him on Caprica, and died in the nuclear blast, and the model who went by Shelley Godfrey, this model was here in the flesh, battered and scarred, but here nonetheless. He could sense her pain, her psychological torment and knew he needed to soothe her, to bring her back to reality. His Head Six was against this course of action, she could sense the danger that her physical model presented to her exclusive hold over Gaius. In the end, he chose the physical over the mental, and much to his own amazement, Baltar had not noticed the absence of his Head Six until much later.

"_Have you learned anything useful from that thing, Doctor?" _Cain's voice over the intercom was an unwelcome interruption. Looking up, he saw the commander of the Pegasus standing with arms folded across her chest, a burning hatred was clearly palpable on the other side of the thick plexiglass cell door.

"Progress comes slowly, admiral." began Baltar in measured tones. "After months of torture, her mind has closed itself off from reality, it will take some time to bring her to a state where reliable answers can be sought."

"Felgercarb, Doctor!" replied Cain with a sneer. "That thing is _not_ a 'she,' or a 'her.' It is a construct, a thing with silica pathways and circuits, not a brain. You'd do best to remember that, the Cylons are counting on reactions such as yours."

"I'm well aware what _she_ is, admiral." said Baltar, disregarding Cain's efforts to strip away any semblance of humanity from the Cylon before him. "Your people have tried the stick, now perhaps it's time for the carrot." Cain let loose with a laugh fully devoid of humor.

"Have it your way doctor, it doesn't really matter. Get this thing back online and talking, or I'll slowly subject her to every painful horror imaginable just short of death. There will be no downloading and resurrection for this one." Cain turned on her heel and was soon gone, Baltar's eyes following her out of the room, an inner rage filling his very core. He was surprised to feel a hand softly touch his upper arm.

"God will punish her in due time." Gina Inviere's voice was low, but full of conviction. Her beautiful blue eyes penetrated Baltar, for a moment he could see her inner strength that had been beaten out of her, find its way back to her.

**Combat Information Center – _Galactica_**

The tension across the nerve center of the mighty Battlestar was palpable, crew members checked, and double checked their equipment to ensure proper function. This would be an extremely dangerous mission, one they hoped would return every single Raptor back to the fleet, with every soul intact.

"One minute to launch, commander." informed Gaeta from his station. Adama nodded and shifted his gaze towards his executive officer.

"I'd feel a whole lot better if the viper wing could give them cover."

"Well when you figure a way to install miniature FTL's in a viper let me know, we'll patent it and make millions of cubits." remarked Tigh with a forced tone of humor. The digital chronometer ticked off the final seconds, and Adama gave the order once it stopped.

"Launch!"

**Combat Information center – _Pegasus_**

"Admiral Cain, the Galactica has launched their Raptors." informed Lt. Hoshi. Cain nodded to her own executive officer who spoke into his head set..

"All Raptors launch...and good hunting!" ordered Fisk.

Twenty Colonial Raptors departed their base ships and assumed jump formation. When they were two minutes out they disappeared one by one in a faster-than-light jump, destination _Caprica. _

Extensive calculations indicated that it would take less than a dozen jumps to reach the former Captial of the twelve worlds. The humanoid Cylon, the former Lieutenant Sharon Agathon was already interfacing directly with the navigation computer from one of the captured Heavy Raiders that was installed in Raptor 1. The plan was for a low altitude jump into _Caprica's_ air space in order to avoid Cylon Baseships in orbit. The loss of three Raptors would immediately trigger a scrubbing of the mission. The first snag in the mission was about to occur with Raptor 6, piloted by Racetrack.

Raptor 6 materialized within an immense gas cloud, the amount of DRADIS interference making for an extremely dangerous situation . Lt. Margaret Edmondson was not at all happy. _"What the frak, Skulls! Where are we?"_demanded the pilot.

"I have no idea boss, can't really tell whats out there, DRADIS is useless, and I have nothing on the com-line dedicated to this op. We're blind!"

"Well that's great, the first jump and we're already out of the game." complained racetrack bitterly. "Alright, spool up the jump drive and we'll return to the fleet, hopefully Starbuck didn't lose any other raptors." Before the ECO could carry out his pilot's order, visibility started to clear out of the front windscreen. Within seconds the raptor was out of the clouds and hurtling downward towards a planet that had been well concealed. "Skulls, check it out!" Unstrapping himself from his seat in the rear cabin, Lt. Hammish Skulls made his way to the front of the raptor to peer out the windscreen.

"Whoa...where did that come from?"

"Hidden in this fraking gas cloud I would assume. Get your ass back to your station and run some scans while I reposition us." The ECO quickly starts a thorough scan of the planet beneath them, and telemetry is quickly examined. Preliminary scans reveal a cold, medium-sized world with a rough climate over a narrow portion of the planet's equator, the most important discovery was of an oxygen atmosphere. This was an incredible discovery, and Racetrack immediately ordered a jump back to the fleet.

**Combat Information Center – Battlestar _Galactica_**

"DRADIS contact." announced Tactical Officer Felix Gaeta. "Single DRADIS contact broadcasting Colonial recognition codes, it's Racetrack."

Adama looked to his XO. "This can't be any good." observed Adama. Walking over to the communications station, Adama arrives just as Dualla is receiving a direct communication from Raptor 6.

"Commander, Raptor 6 requesting emergency approach." announced Dualla.

"Permission granted, bring her in, Dee." ordered Adama as he turned to Tigh. "Let's go Saul, Mister Gaeta...you have the deck." The two made their way to the flight pods, where by the time they arrived, the Raptor would be aboard. The mission to _Caprica_ depended upon at least seventeen raptors arriving on station, once they lost three, the mission would be scrubbed. The return of one raptor within a half hour of launch was not a good sign. The trip from the CIC to the lower levels of the flight pod took roughly fifteen minutes for the two senior officers of the Galactica to make, by the time they arrived in the hanger, Raptor 6 was being lowered from the landing bay several decks above. He could see the young pilot's face clearly through the windscreen, she didn't appear to be distressed in any way. Racetrack leapt off the wing of the raptor the moment the hatch opened fully, she left her post flight check in the hands of her very unhappy ECO.

"Lieutenant?" spoke Adama, as she came to a stop before them.

"Commander, may I suggest a more private location for my report?" Tigh and Adama quickly glanced at each other, both simultaneously wondering _what now?_

**Pilot's Ready Room_ – Galactica_**

Once Tigh sealed the hatch shut, Adama spoke up. "Whats going on, Racetrack?"

"We found a planet, sir!" she blurted out excitedly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"After the initial jump, my raptor materialized within a large gas cloud, not another raptor to be detected on DRADIS, or spotted visually. We were alone, presumably the first set of jump coordinates were entered improperly." reported Racetrack, momentarily embarrassed. "We were about to jump back to the fleet when we broke through the cloud cover, the planet directly beneath us. I switched on the cameras immediately and started snapping digitals as Skulls ran telemetry scans. Sir...it'll support human life!"

This was incredible news, and Adama was pleased that his pilots had the common sense and military discipline not to broadcast their discovery over the wireless, but to report it in person. The president would have to be notified immediately, as would Admiral Cain.

"Colonel Tigh, contact the Pegasus and let Admiral Cain know that we need to meet and discuss Racetrack's discovery." said Adama allowing a smile to spread across his face. "Good job Margaret, pass along my thanks to Skulls, you two did a great job. You might have missed the rescue mission, but came away with a great consolation prize." Racetrack turned on her heels beaming, and departed for the hanger where she knew Skulls would be holding court over "his discovery."

**Commander Adama's quarters – ten hours ofter planet discovery**

Helena Cain's face was a mask of intensity when Colonel Tigh switched the overhead lights back on. The Admiral of the fleet sat watching the digital photos taken from Racetrack's raptor. The low orbit pass over the largest body of land revealed incredible footage.The planet was discovered in a star system that was home to a massive nebula, the small planet was nestled deep within that nebula.

"Absolutely incredible, commander." said Cain. "We'll have to confirm your pilot's preliminary scans in regard to habitability."

"Are you contemplating colonization, admiral?" inquired Adama.

"Colonization, no! The possibility of using that planet has a launching point to reclaim the colonies..." Cain looked directly into Bill Adama's eyes, "quite possibly! If we can confirm that the planet itself lies undetectable to our DRADIS scans within that nebula, then its military significance will be obvious."

"Admiral, would you like me to brief the president of the situation?" asked Adama.

"I suppose she'll have to be briefed," replied Cain dismissively. "Perhaps you should brief the vice president at the same time, gods only know which one of them we'll be dealing with after the election." Adama could see exactly where Cain was going with this, and decided he wanted no part in her game of pitting Laura and Baltar against each other. Cain walked over to Adama's sideboard that contained several bottles of alcohol, she gingerly picked up an ornate crystal bottle with a dark amber liquid and removed the top. Slowly she inhaled the aroma. "Tauron whiskey, commander? Excellent taste, may I?"

"Of course admiral, help yourself." replied Adama. She took three small glasses and poured just less than a finger's worth of liquid in each, then handed them to Adama and Tigh. She then dropped down into the large comfortable leather chair in the corner and spoke.

"Bill, this is an incredible discovery," she started, her voice relaxed. "things have been strained between yourself and I, and I think we need to put aside these petty differences, and start looking ahead."

_Petty differences?! _Thought Adama to himself, _she clearly is delusional. _Knowing that this was hardly the time to address what she considered 'petty differences,' Adama merely smiled and replied diplomatically that he agreed fully.

"Alright gentlemen, lets get moving on this new planet." said Cain standing up. She drained the alcohol from her glass and held it out somewhat imperiously to Colonel Tigh, who, much to Adama's surprise, carefully hid his displeasure while taking it. "I want full scans on the composition of this nebula, and confirmation that it is indeed invisible to DRADIS sweeps." Cain's security detail was waiting for her when she exited Adama's quarters, she politely turned down Adama's offer to walk her back to the flight deck. After the door shut, Adama looked at his executive officer.

"Tigh, do be a good boy and fetch me another glass, won't you?" said Adama stiffly, holding out his empty glass.

"Permission to tell the commander to go _frak himself_!" groused Tigh as he placed Cain's empty glass down on the table as if it was radioactive. Adama chuckled and refilled both of their glasses, and motioned for his friend to sit down.

"What do you make of her olive branch, Saul?"

"It's as genuine as Kara Thrace's credentials to be an executive officer." Tigh spat venomously. "Don't tell me you believe that fraking harpy, Bill?"

"You _know_ I don't, but we both know that Cain doesn't do or say _anything_ without a purpose concealed in there somewhere. We keep our eyes and ears open more than ever." replied Adama.


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63.

Starbuck's rescue mission completes the final jump to Caprica, unfortunately, Raptor 612 is destroyed with all souls aboard when it materializes right into the middle of a mountain range. The wreckage is scattered across hundreds of yards as Starbuck's Raptor passes by. She spares a sideways glance towards Sharon Valerii, as if she was somehow responsible for Raptor 612's demise.

"Helo, who's with us?" asked Starbuck leaning over Karl Agathon's shoulder at the ECO station. Lt. Karl "Helo" Agathon did a quick DRADIS sweep, they lost Raptor 612 and Raptor 6. Starbuck was surprised to see Racetrack among the lost, she liked Margaret, the two had their moments of disagreement, but she felt sad to think she and her ECO might have been killed like Raptor 612's crew. "Alright people, let's get down low to the deck! Every Raptor has _Delphi's_ topography loaded into their computer, lets follow the pre-arranged route to Delphi Union High School, and pray that Anders didn't have to move his base of operations!" announced Starbuck over the comline connecting the entire SAR team. Within ten minutes, the fleet of Raptors roar across the valley that housed the former Delphi Union High School on _Caprica_, converted to the resistance base camp after the holocaust, one by one they landed in open areas, spread out as to not become tempting targets for Cylons that would most likely now be alerted to their presence in the valley.

Nina Nintius brought her beloved TAZ in for a gentle landing in the tall grass, once the engines were shut down she brought the roof turret online as the Colonial Marines exited the Raptor. She would not be leaving her Raptor, as would all of the other pilots and ECO's who needed to be present in the event that the mission was compromised and an immediate launch and recovery was necessary. With her Marine squad disembarked, Nina sealed up the hatch tight and waited, her senses fully alert.

Starbuck had taken point with Marine Lieutenant Terry Burrell of the Galactica. They had stopped at a rocky outcropping that overlooked a narrow stream roughly five klicks from the high school's east entrance. Taking out her field glasses, Starbuck scanned the area. "If I remember correctly, this area from seven o'clock to two o'clock is loaded with Bouncing Betty's." informed Starbuck describing the Colonial military jargon for an antipersonnel land mines.

"It also makes for a perfect kill zone." replied Burrell gesturing with his hand to various spots higher up along the ridge. "Unless you know where every single one of those fraking mines are, which I doubt, I suggest we take the less direct route." advised the Marine.

"I have to agree, Terry. Even if I did remember the locations from my time here, whose to say that they haven't been changed. Hell, whose to say that the high school's location hasn't long been compromised and this whole mission if fraked up beyond all recognition?" said Kara dryly.

"I doubt it." said Burrell suddenly. He handed her the field glasses and spoke softly. "Zoom in at that large boulder at eight o'clock, look to the right about a foot off the ground...what do you see?" Kara took the field glasses and zeroed in on the area that the Marine described.

"Well I'll be a Cylon's auntie," smiled Kara handing back the field glasses to its owner, "A tripwire. You gorilla's have the eyes of an eagle don't you? We're what...sixty yards away, and you spotted that?" asked Starbuck slightly awed.

"Don't feel bad colonel, you're a viper jock, not a marine. As good as you are in the bush, you're _not_ a marine!" said Burrell respectfully.

"Don't _colonel _me, Terry. I'm still Kara, and I'll still give the best of your fraking gorillas a run for their cubits any day of the week in the field." challenged Starbuck with a wink and a smile. Terry Burrell had been a Colonial Marine since a month after he graduated from high school, like many marines, he often held viper pilots in lesser esteem than his fellow marauders, but in Kara Thrace he found the exception. Not only was she one of the best viper pilot he had ever seen, she was an uncanny ground fighter as well, often volunteering to train with the Marine detachment aboard Galactica, constantly honing her hand to hand combat techniques, and marksmanship. Even the most hard core Galactica marine respected her ability as a sharp shooter, and all around ground fighter.

"Well Kara, how do you propose to get us around that lovely little kill zone down there?" As if answering him, Kara put down her rifle and stuck two fingers in her mouth, then, to the Marine's surprise she whistled, sounding like a bird that would have once filled the forest before the radiation generated by the Cylon bombs that rained down on Caprica. Just about all wildlife on Caprica had expired due to the radiation that no doubt finally found its way high up in the mountainous area they were now in. She repeated the bird call several times before finally being answered by another distant bird call. Burrell swung his rifle around towards the direction of the incoming bird call. Starbuck gently placed her hand on his forearm.

"Stand down Terry, our guide out of this _lovely little kill zone_ has arrived." said Kara softly. She scanned the area several times before finally spotting the well-camouflaged sniper that had returned her bird call. She sounded off twice more with the same bird call, and when that was returned she stood, much to Burrell's surprise. A dangerously thin female not more than twenty five yards away stepped out into the open and walked towards their position. A wide smile stretched across Starbuck's face. "Layla?"

"_Starbuck?! _ Omigods...I never thought I'd see you again?" said the sniper, trying to contain her excitement.

"I promised you all I'd come back for you!" replied Kara taking the resistance fighter into her arms and hugging her. Layla Marsland was a professional Pyramid player for the _Picon Panthers _when she was unceremoniously traded to the _Caprica Buccaneers _not two full months before the Cylon attack on the Colonies. The last time Starbuck had seen her she was at least twenty pounds heavier. Once voted Sexiest Pyramid Player of the Year, her soft feminine features were battle hardened, her blue eyes now appeared dull and lifeless. Clearly survival had been a challenge high in the mountains of _Delphi. _"Layla, meet Lieutenant Terry Burrell, Colonial Marines assigned to Galactica, Terry... Layla Marsland, former Picon Panther and C-Buc, now resident resistance fighter for _Caprica_."

"Pleased to meet you Terry, you have no idea how it feels to see another human being after all these months." said Layla. "However, I suggest we save the reunion for a safer location, clanker patrols have been spotted in this area over the past few days, a bit too close to base for our liking."

"How many are left, Layla?" asked Starbuck.

"About _half_ of what was here when you were last with us." replied Layla sadly.

"Sam?"

"Fraker is too tough to die, I can't wait to see the expression on his face when he sees you. By the way, how many of you are there?"

"I brought a company of Marines with me, all of them as big and ugly as ole Terry here." replied Starbuck nodding her head towards Burrell who quickly replied with a one finger salute as he kept his eyes scanning the perimeter for threats.

"Let's regroup with them then, and then get back to base." The two officers and resistance fighter quickly regrouped with the Marine force and cautiously made their way along an out-of-the-way route to Delphi High School, current home of the Caprica resistance fighters.

**Battlestar Pegasus – Detention Block**

The humanoid Cylon prisoner formerly known as Gina Inviere had come to trust Doctor Gauis Baltar. Not only had he gone out of his way to try and ease her physical, and emotional pain, but at great risk to himself, he had put his trust in her fully by revealing to her that he had had a relationship with another of her model, Caprica Six, the very model who was instrumental in the downfall of the entire Colonial Fleet. Under Cain, this alone would be cause for Baltar's death as a conspirator. She could tell that he clearly did not like Helena Cain, he was refined, intelligent, sensitive, while she had turned brutal and sadistic after judgment day.

Her cell contained no furniture, or amenities of any kind. The harsh, bright lights remained lit twenty four hours a day within her cell, all Cain's doing. The only change was that she was no longer shackled to the floor like an animal, wearing tattered clothes and being fed bowls of disgusting scraps of food mixed with water. All that had changed with the arrival of Gauis. He seemed to genuinely care for her, he was different. He was betrayed by Caprica Six, his seduction led to the near annihilation of the human race, yet he still seemed to care for her, protect her. She had been sitting cross legged, deep within Cylon projection when she sensed she was not alone. Instinctively, she rolled forward, spinning onto her side while bringing her long legs about. The marine guard was unprepared for the snap kick to his knee, and was brought to the floor in agony. Gina, leaping onto his chest, grabbed both sides of his head and twisted with inhuman strength. The crack of his neck reverberated throughout the cell. The service weapon that was still holstered on his thigh soon was within her hands. Suddenly she looked up towards the black globe that housed a surveillance camera in a panic. She had only seconds. Taking the guard's weapon, she switched the safety off and placed the barrel under her chin.

"There's really no need for that, Gina."

The voice was low and soothing. Baltar was standing in the doorway to the cell, he made no move to secure the door, or sound the alarm. She paused. "I can't stay here, Gaius. I pull this trigger here, and will wake up fully resurrected on the nearest Basestar."

"And where might that be?" asked Gauis entering the cell. "How can you be sure there's one in range?"

"You'd have me stay here? There must be a squad of Marines double timing it to this location by now." said Gina pointing up towards the security camera."

"Oh that!" said Baltar matter of factly, "don't worry, it's been rendered inoperable."

"How would you know that?"

"Because I rendered it so!" replied Baltar. "Listen to me Gina, what has been done to you in this room, under Admiral Cain's direct orders was an abomination. There is no excuse, or justification for what you endured. Have you no desire to see _justice_ done?" Looking down at the dead Marine she knew that Baltar was right. He was beside her in an instant, his arm gently wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer to him. She was surprised that she had no reaction to his physical contact with her body. He looked deep into her eyes, and she in turn looked deep with his, seeing a deeply caring human before her. In an instant, she felt the love radiating from Baltar, love for her. "Justice, Gina. It _must_ be served!" With that, Gaius Baltar removed his arm from her waist and stepped back, for a moment she thought she could see tears welling up in Baltar's eyes. "Find your justice, and then meet me aboard _Cloud Nine_ in three days if you can." With that he walked out of the cell, and out of the cell block. This was something she had not expected. She looked down at the dead guard for a few moments, then dragged his lifeless body out of her cell, and into the observation room that he used to watch her from on security monitors.

**Combat Information Center – Pegasus**

No word had been received from Starbuck's SAR mission to _Caprica_, it was still early in the mission, and no word was expected at this point anyway. Still, Helena Cain thought about Kara. Was she safely on _Caprica_, was she in a firefight or dead, or would she now be in the arms of the resistance leader Samuel Anders that she heard so much about? She had no personal doubts of her ability to keep Kara Thrace's military loyalty to her, what she was growing concerned with was her emotional loyalty. This former Pyramid athlete would have to be watched carefully, and if need be, dealt with. With her executive officer away on the mission, her third in command, Captain Renner was now the acting XO. Her head felt as if it would split open, she needed to go to her quarters and get some rest.

"XO, you have the CIC, I'll be finishing up some work in my quarters. Unless there's an all out Cylon attack, I prefer _not_ to be disturbed." ordered Cain. Renner, who already chafed under Cain's rule, was even more embittered since Kara Thrace bypassed him to become executive officer.

"Aye aye, admiral." Cain stepped out of the CIC and made her way down the hallway towards officer's country. Her quarters were the closest to the ship's nerve center, and always guarded by a Colonial Marine when she was within. Her Marine guard quickly stepped ahead of her as they approached her quarters and punched in the security code, the door slid open, and he quickly stood aside to allow Cain to enter. As the door slid shut, he positioned himself to the right side of the door and relaxed. As was Cain's custom, no chair was available to the security detail, after all, they were Colonial Marines, and were supposed to be standing guard, fully alert.

Cain removed her pistol belt and slung it over the lone chair in the room behind her desk, she unbuttoned and slowly removed her tunic, taking inventory of every sore muscle in her shoulders. Perhaps a hot shower before laying down, she thought. She kicked off her boots, and slid out of her trousers. Walking into her personal latrine, she turned on the shower and then turned to look at herself in the full length mirror on the wall. Not bad for a woman her age, not bad at all she thought. Keeping physically fit had always been a passion for her, she'd be damned if she was going to let herself go at this point. Always lead by example, and never show weakness. Apparently Jack Fisk never adhered to that discipline, otherwise he would most likely still be among the land of the living. The steam quickly filled the latrine, and she could already feel herself relax. After removing her undergarments she stepped into the shower stall and placed both palms against the sides of the stall, allowing the hot water to cascade over her entire body. Every shower head aboard Pegasus was preset at a certain flow rate and temperature, every one accept the commander's personal latrine. It was one of the few personal luxuries she allowed herself, and besides, rank had its privileges. The eight minute shower settings did not apply to her own shower, and after twenty minutes she finally stepped out and started to towel off her body. The entire latrine was filled with steam, but she quickly spotted something out of place. Her security detail was sitting in the chair that was recently behind her desk, his automatic rifle across his lap.

"_What the frak are you doing in here, corporal?! _ You've just signed your own death warrant!" sneered Cain cinching the large bath towel up tight across her body. The silent guard merely raised his arm and pointed a long finger towards the left side of the room towards the floor. Through the thick layer of steam Cain could hardly make out the black clad figure crumpled on the floor. As she got closer, she recoiled as she spotted the very marine who escorted her to her cabin no more than a half hour ago. His head was at a obscenely impossible angle in regard to his torso. His neck had been snapped, and his eyes were wide open in horror, looking straight up at Cain. She backed up several feet, glaring at the intruder.

"That was a nice long shower, Helena. I doubt any of your crew is afforded such amenities."

"_You!" _ gasped Cain. The steam was clearing, and the black clad marine pushed back his helmet to reveal a woman's face, Gina Inviere's face.

The embroidered name tag over the breast pocket of the marine uniform she wore bore the name of the marine corporal that was tasked with guarding her in the brig. With one hand she removed her helmet and dropped it to the floor where it rolled to the side. In her other hand was a the dead marine's service weapon. A crudely made silencer affixed to the end. Cain stood her ground, refusing to show the slightest trace of fear.

"I remember many a night we shared that shower... and that bed in the next room. We made incredible love to each other, and in the end you had your sick interrogator beat and rape me on a daily basis. Quite the betrayal, wouldn't you say?" asked Gina, her face revealing not the slightest hint of emotion.

"Frak you! The betrayal was yours. You took the love, and trust I freely gave you and tried to murder me and my entire crew. If it wasn't for Shaw, you might have gotten away with both." spat Cain.

"Kendra Shaw? I forgot all about her. Did she take my place as the recipient of your...affection?" chided Gina. "It doesn't matter, soon you'll be dead, and the fleet quickly after."

"_Frak you!" _hissed Cain.

"Sorry...you're no longer my type." she lowered her silenced weapon and pulled the trigger, the 9mm round striking Helena Cain directly in the left kneecap. Cain's howl of pain was quickly muffled by the hand towel that Gina stuffed into her mouth. "Hurts, doesn't it?" smiled Gina now aiming the barrel at Cain's other kneecap. Helena Cain's eyes bulged in mixture of pain, shock and horror. The hand towel stuffed securely in her mouth prevented anything louder than grunts and sobs from being heard. "You're lucky I can't stomach the _thought _of sex with you, otherwise I'd give you a taste of what Lieutenant Thorne did to me for days and months on end with the barrel of that rifle over there." She said motioning towards the rifle leaning against the chair she was sitting in. She walked over to the rifle and approached Cain who was writhing in pain, blood pooling up beneath her. She hesitated as if contemplating her suggestion. "Tempting... but _this_ is so much more satisfying." said Gina holding up the silenced automatic pistol. She tossed the rifle across the floor, and stood over Cain. She fired again, this time at the elbows of both arms. Tears streamed down Cain's face, as she started to go into shock from the pain and blood loss. Gina Inviere had dreamed of this moment for a long time, her projections would mainly be of her beating Cain physically to death in retribution for her months of torture and humiliation. Now, looking down at the woman who she was tasked to enter into a relationship with, and then gain her trust in order to exploit it, the effort almost didn't seem worth it. "How does it feel, admiral? How does it feel to be helpless, beaten and humiliated?" taunted the six model Cylon. "God has judged you and finds you unworthy, along with the rest of humanity. Enjoy your journey to hell." Gina stood directly over Cain's shattered body and sighted her weapon directly on the spot between Cain's tear-filled eyes and pulled the trigger. It was finally over. Admiral Helena Cain's head shattered, her face no longer remotely recognizable. Gina Inviere walked over to the shower and turned it on. Slowly she stripped naked and entered the steaming hot shower, the first she had had in a very long time. "Ahhh...that's more like it." she said to herself smiling.

**Delphi Union High School – Entry Point Alpha**

The Marines walked on both sides of the road, staying close to the thick cover of the evergreen trees that lined the entrance to the rural former high school campus. Layla Marsland had gone ahead of the SAR team to ensure that the guard at the gate would not panic and fire on their rescuers. This was the most remote route into the campus, thickly wooded and littered with all kinds of booby traps. Cylon Heavy Raiders had occasionally flown over the area, but from the sky, the campus appeared long deserted, that was by design. The company of marines led by Starbuck and Terry Burrell were quickly led under cover into the school's gymnasium. Kara was shocked by the state of the resistance camp, rain buckets had been set up to catch whatever rainwater ran down the gutters. Several military vehicles lay scavenged for their parts, one of them was Kara's own personal vehicle that she and Helo reclaimed from the underground garage of her old apartment. People that she briefly knew looked thinner, and more weary. _Where is Sam? _She thought to herself. She didn't wonder for too long, the rear gymnasium doors were thrown open, and Samuel Anders rushed in, looking about the crowd of heavily armed Colonial Marines before him. Their eyes locked, and Starbuck ran up to Sam and hugged him tightly.

"You came back!" he exclaimed happily.

"Were you ever in doubt?" shot back Starbuck.

"After the first month, I had my doubts." he admitted. The resistance fighters mingled with their rescuers, hugs and handshakes were exchanged between strangers. "My Gods I can't believe its you, I never stopped thinking about you." Kara placed her fingers across his lips to silence him, then kissed him for what seemed like an eternity.

"_Starbuck!" _Terry Burrell's voice boomed from the far side of the auditorium where he was standing. "We've got incoming!" he yelled. The guard at one of the checkpoints radioed in to Layla that several squads of centurions had breached the perimeter. Gunfire could now be heard outside of the gymnasium, the unmistakable sound of the three-barreled automatic projectile weapons built into the forearms of every centurion.

"Everyone fall back to the rear exits!" ordered Anders as he swung his UMP45, or Universal Machine Pistol .45 caliber into firing position. About three quarters of the occupants were out of the gymnasium when the first centurion burst through the front door, it took less than a second for it to start firing on the retreating humans. Starbuck was soon at Burrell's side instructing him to call in Nina for air support and immediate evacuation.

"I can't reach the Raptors on the wireless, fraking clankers must be jamming the freqs." advised Burrell replacing the headset into his radioman's backpack receiver. The roar of gunfire almost drowned him out completely, but Starbuck understood the message.

"Sam, we need to get your people out of here and to the evac Raptors staged in Widow's Valley." shouted Starbuck into his ears.

"Widow's valley is five klicks from here, we'll never make it there if more clankers show up." replied Anders.

"Just get us back to the valley by the shortest route, Sam. Hopefully the interference will subside along the way to let us radio the Raptors to pick us up." At least a dozen centurions were firing upon them as they made their way across the campus. Sam ran up to one of his fighters and instructed him to send out the evacuation code, with Widow's Valley as the rallying point.

The fighter quickly carried out the order, and the remaining resistance fighters started to abandon their assigned posts to regroup with the rescue force. Almost every remaining resistance fighter made their way along a preplanned escape route, making no effort to conceal themselves, as if wanting the centurions to give chase. Sam was holding a covering position behind the former campus security guard shack that had long been reinforced to withstand small arms fire. The last of his fighters and the SAR team made their way off campus, and Sam opened a cabinet that used to house the phone for the guard shack. It held four firing devices (commonly referred to as "clackers" in military jargon). Cylon fire now started to focus onto the guard shack, pieces of painted wood flying off in all directions. The makeshift armament would soon fail before the advancing centurions.

"Sam what the frak are you waiting for, _do it!"_ yelled Layla as she started to fire on the centurions. Starbuck, Burrell and Layla started laying down heavy covering fire in order for Sam to exit the guard shack. Close to a dozen centurions were now within fifty yards of his position when he detonated the first of the directional fragmentation anti-personnel mines. The roar of the four successive blasts were deafening as four mines containing seven hundred 3.2 mm steel balls each ripped through the centurions. The positioning of these mines had been planned in the event of just such an emergency, the rear exit of the campus allowed direct access to the heavily wooded area. The race was on for the raptors, the Cylons would mow be calling in reinforcements now that they finally had the location of the resistance base camp.

**Raptor 4 – Widow's Valley Staging Area**

"Time?" asked Nina.

"Approaching three minutes overdue, boss." Nina started to grow nervous, for all of Starbuck's faults, when it came down to the precision of a military op, she seldom was late. She texted a message to Helo over the wireless.

_Raptor 4: God is never late. Don't like it._

_Raptor 1: short message...high scan scramble._

_No fraking felgercarb! _thought Nina. She switched to the appropriate frequency, and pressed the transmit button on her headset. "Mistress Betty calling almighty...over." Silence. "Mistress Betty calling almighty...over." Helo's response came across her display screen. _Something is wrong! _Nina quickly instructed her ECO to scan for Cylon jamming signals.

"Bingo, I've got active jamming...Cylon in origin."

"Frak! Nina strapped herself into her seat tightly and initiated start up procedures, she messaged the other raptors to follow suit. "Helo, the felgercarb must have hit the fan, we're gonna have to go find em."

"Message received Betty, lets make our way towards the campus, hug the treetops to avoid detection as long as possible." One by one the raptors ascended and made their way towards Delphi High School campus, hoping that there would be someone still there when they got there.

The mass exodus from the resistance camp made their way through the ravine leading to Widow's Valley with relative ease until the Cylons brought in heavy artillery. 80mm cannon fire turned dense, and hardened Caprican oak trees into deadly splinters of shrapnel. One member of the SAR team was killed instantly when his body armor failed to stop the deadly shrapnel hurling at high velocity. Centurions flowed into the ravine from both sides, but no enemy air support had yet to arrive. Starbuck slammed herself hard up against a boulder in order to avoid the Cylon who had a lock on her position. Burrell was within range to communicate via hand signal with her due to the deafening roar of canon fire. The message wasn't good, the Cylons had all but had them completely surrounded, and the artillery fire was increasing. Sam had made a maniacal dash across a trail, drawing the centurion's fire off of Starbuck. Burrell was then able to toss two grenades almost at their feet. The explosion completely destroyed one centurion, and crippled two others.

"Any luck raising the raptors, Terry?" asked Starbuck as she rejoined him and Sam.

"Nina tried reaching us about five minutes ago, but our portable radios can't penetrate the jamming that the clankers are throwing up at us." reported Burrell.

A now-smiling Starbuck came to life. "Frak yeah! If I know Betty, she's deduced things went fubar by our not meeting the preset radio check and jamming field and is now inbound."

"Yeah, but that also means the Baseships in orbit know things are fubar as well, and should be sending in heavy raiders and more ground troops." countered Burrell.

"Gods-damned gorillas, always fraking pessimists." laughed Starbuck as she zeroed in on a centurion coming out of a thick patch of briars. "Any luck with the wireless?"

"None, still jamming us." More artillery fire rained down into the ravine, there was no way they were going to make it out of there, much less to the open fields of Widow's.

"Perhaps we should surrender?" came a distant voice. Starbuck whirled around to find the author of such a ridiculous statement. She spotted an elderly gentleman wearing a long brown coat and hat. She recognized him, he was a religious man, a brother. She recalled the story of his being out on a religious retreat when the Cylon attack on the colonies commenced, and that he had been rescued from near death by Sam, eventually becoming the resistance's spiritual adviser.

"Brother Cavil, isn't it?" yelled Starbuck over the explosions. "Got a newsflash for you, brother...Centurions do not take prisoners! So get your scrawny ass under cover!" Sam had come running up, and dove next to Cavil.

"Brother, what happened to you? You were supposed to stick to Marcus, he said you wandered off just before the Cylons attacked us."

"Not sure how we got separated, Sam." lied Cavil. He wasn't about to admit to meeting with a six model Cylon who had come to advise him of their fellow humanoid Cylon models decision to let the humans live. He decided he would return to the fleet as an envoy to the humans. Even Cavil was surprised when a centurion crashed through into the open from the thickly wooded forest. It's lone red eye took in the immediate area, and started to open fire. A long barrage caught Layla full force in the torso, nearly cutting her in half before Starbuck emptied the magazines from the twin Škorpion vz. 61 submachine guns that hung criss-crossed from her shoulders. The metallic monstrosity went down, but was still in the fight. There was obviously a mixture of heavy and lightly armored centurions in this fight. This one would take armor piercing rounds to finish off. Starbuck was now defenseless, facing the business end of one of the centurion's built in weapons, the other had been badly damaged. Before the centurion could fire, Colonial Marine Lieutenant Terry Burrell tackled the centurion, hitting him full force, his massive arms attempted to wrap themselves around the centurion's head and twist, but this model centurion's head was encased deeper in armor. For all his strength, Burrell couldn't snap the robot's head. He eventually withdrew a long titanium K-BAR knife from a sheath on his body armor and drove it deep into the V-shaped optical lens, twisting vigorously as sparks started to shoot out. The centurion finally went down, a sickening whine emanating from its damaged body.

"We're getting cut to pieces!" yelled another Marine from his position of cover. As if in reply, a deafening roar of 50mm cannon fire roared from above, the Calvary had arrived. Roughly one hundred feet above them, Raptor 4 was holding its position via maneuvering thrusters, firing its weaponry on advancing centurions. Several other raptors carpet bombed a path through the dense forest, that was no doubt filled with resistance booby traps, all the way to the clearing of Widow's valley. There was no place to land, and blasting a path to open space was Helo's idea. Once the fires died down, the SAR team and resistance fighters made their way over uneven bombed out ground towards the landing zone. At this range, the transmitters from Nina's raptor cut through any jamming easily, ordering the evacuees to proceed to the landing zone "post fraking haste," and that they and Raptor 213 would cover their escape.

"Fraking Aye, I love that pilot!" yelled Starbuck as she pulled Brother Cavil up by his jacket collar and belt and helped him make his way through the bombed out path. The incoming Cylon artillery fire seemed to have immediately ceased, causing Starbuck to fear that Cylon raiders were enroute. "_Let's move it people!"_ she screamed loudly.

**Commander Adama's Quarters – Battlestar Galactica**

Bill Adama was surprised to see the wheel hatch on his door spin to the open position. He was in his private latrine, but would have heard the guard knocking if he wished to enter. The hatch swung open and Tigh walked in, the look on his face indicated that the news was _not_ good.

"The SAR?" asked Adama.

"Negative Bill, haven't heard a word from Starbuck yet. Just received a scrambled call from Renner over on Pegasus... _Cains been murdered!"_

"_Murdered? _How...when?" pressed Adama, giving his executive officer his undivided attention.

"Within the last ten hours, he's guessing." reported Tigh. "Renner was left in charge as she allegedly left for her quarters. When she didn't respond to a call from the CIC over an important security matter, Renner personally went over to her quarters and found that the duty marine was not on station outside her door. Upon entering Cain's quarters, he found her dead on the floor, multiple gunshot wounds to the extremities, and half her head blown off. The marine guard was within as well, dead from a broken neck."

"Omigods." whispered Adama to himself. He then looked up quickly, "Saul...were our people involved?" demanded Adama. Adama knew that at one point Cain was planning to move against Adama, and that some of his own people had offered to thwart that by murdering her first.

"Highly doubtful, Bill."

"Damn it Saul, I'm serious. Where the frak is Lensherr and Sarnex?"

"They've been aboard Galactica the entire time, commander. Lensherr hanging around the damned brig with his Cylon whore, and Sarnex...well, gods only know what that reprobate sunuvabitch was doing, but whatever he was doing he was doing aboard _this_ ship. Neither have been off ship."

He pressed his fingertips to his temples, as if forcing away an invisible pain. "Alright, inform Renner that he's temporarily in command of _Pegasus_, I want _all_ air traffic throughout the fleet suspended immediately. Whatever is still out there I want _kept_ out there until brought in individually to _this_ ship. Standard confinement procedures Saul, we may be too late, but we need to start somewhere."

"Aye aye, commander." replied Tigh as he departed Adama's quarters, leaving Bill to digest the news. Cain was dangerous, he had no doubt that the dissolving of civilian leadership, and establishing full martial law was on Cain's short list of things to do, but this was serious. First Fisk is murdered on the _Prometheus, _and now Helena Cain was murdered in her own stateroom, aboard her own Battlestar. This was going to get ugly, fast. He picked up the receiver, and punched in the code to _Colonial One_.

**Widow's Valley – _Caprica_**

Injured SAR members and resistance fighters were loaded into the waiting Raptors first, Colonial Marines faced out of the perimeter of the LZ, scanning for signs of Cylon pursuit. Helo's idea to bomb a path direct from the woods to the open area saved the retreating humans at least 45 minutes in travel time. There were at least two dozen more fighters making their way through the bombed out path towards the waiting SAR raptors.

Nina "Mistress Betty" Nintius tilted her wings in order to get a better look at the ground beneath her. The clock was ticking, and with her ECO's eyes glued upon the DRADIS for incoming Cylon attack craft, she kept her beloved TAZ at a hover just above the treetops, scanning intently for the glint of armor making its way in pursuit. She could see a black clad fighter with long blond pony tail not-so-gently prodding another figure along the uneven ground of the bombed out path, That had to be Starbuck.

"_Multiple DRADIS contacts..." _warned the ECO. "Cylon raiders just breaking the upper atmosphere."

"Oh frak me!" spat Nina as she did a quick inventory of her weapons. She was down to about 600 rounds of 30mm, and still had a full compliment of Spectra Six missiles in the articulating weapons pods mounted atop her Raptor. Raptors generally were not armed, nor could they outrun a Cylon Raider or Colonial Viper without jumping. The incoming raiders were still a long way out, they might very well make the rescue. "Raptor 1, Raptor 4 over."

"_Go ahead Raptor 4." _replied Sharon Valerii from the cockpit.

"We've got some of your family members coming in hot! How we doing down there?" demanded Betty.

"_We've got almost everyone aboard and secure. Just whoever is left in the trail, and perimeter security, Nina."_ replied The eight model humanoid Cylon ignoring Nina's family crack.

"Get the gorillas back on board their raptors and prepare for immediate take off. Get your FTL's spooled up, and be ready to jump to checkpoint Alpha 1." ordered Nina.

"_Raptor 1 receives." _Nina's raptor was tasked with transporting at least six resistance fighters back to the fleet, but it was painfully clear that there were far less survivors than anticipated. They had also lost at least a dozen of the assigned fighters to the SAR team. Her Raptor would not be landing on _Caprica_ to pick up survivors, the other raptors could handle that. She instructed her ECO to plot an intercept course for the incoming raiders. Once plotted, she keyed the frequency that Starbuck was operating on.

"Almighty, Raptor 4...over."

"_Raptor 4 this is almighty... go ahead."_

"Almighty, be advised we have at least sixty raiders inbound from orbit, I'm on an intercept course to try and buy you guys some time. Try to move your ass..._Colonel!_"

"_Raptor 4...almighty receives. Good hunting, and don't get yourself killed Nina! Try to remember that's a fraking Raptor, no matter how many missiles you pack it with."_

"Ye of little faith!" retorted Nina. "Taz is much more than just a Raptor." With Starbuck finally clear of the path and running for her assigned Raptor, Nina tilted back on the control cyclic and accelerated for the upper atmosphere. She toggled several switches, bringing her Spectra Six missiles online. Her ECO advised her that they were closing the gap between them and the incoming raiders very quickly. The 30mm cannons attached to the wings of the Raiders remained silent, they were still too far off to have any effective impact on the lone Raptor daring to approach. Fortunately, the missiles housed in the missile pods did not suffer the limitations facing the Cylon Raiders. The chemical propellent would carry the missiles faster and farther then the kinetic energy weapons.

"Betty... now in NEZ." reported the ECO, referring to the No Escape Zone, which was the term used for the zone within which there is a high kill probability against a target even if it has been alerted. Spectra Six missiles were highly destructive weapons within the Colonial weapons menu. Once detonated, they formed a spider-like web of individual bomblets that destroyed anything it came in contact with. One well placed missile could easily damage or destroy up to a dozen enemy fighters if in tight formation.

**Raptor 1**

Starbuck was the last to board the Raptor. Incoming artillery rounds were now starting to land closer to the landing zone. Making her way up to the cockpit, she strapped herself into the copilot's seat next to Sharon. "Lets get the hell outta here, Sharon." One by one, the Search and Rescue Raptors lifted off the ground and started to gain altitude. They were heading in the opposite direction of Raptor 4 and the incoming raiders. Even with their Faster Than Light drives spooling up, the raiders would be on top of them before all could safely jump away. "Hade's hole Sharon, can't this thing go any faster?"

"We're still in the atmosphere Kara, and fully weighed down." replied Sharon needlessly.

Raptor 4 launched two sets of Spectra Six missiles, repositioned the launchers than launched two additional sets. The missiles streaked through the air towards the incoming raiders who quickly scanned and identified them. The bio-mechanical raiders quickly broke formation, but not quick enough as the first set of missiles detonated. The blast radius from the twin missiles caught at least a dozen or so enemy fighters, ripping them to pieces. The dispersing bomblets continued the devastation. The second set of missiles were spaced further apart, and the second detonation was worse than the first. With the raiders now flying further apart from each other, they started to gain speed on the retreating Raptor that dared to engage them. Nina pushed the Raptor's throttle to maximum and raced for the upper atmosphere. 30 mm cannon fire was getting closer.

"Strap yourself in, I've gotta evade for at least another thirty seconds before we can jump." warned Nina as she not-so-gracefully dodged and rolled to avoid the incoming fire. DRADIS indicated that at least six full squadrons of raiders were making their way from the orbiting Basestar that was now entering the uppermost atmosphere. The ECO reported that Raptor transponders were quickly disappearing off DRADIS screens, indicating that the SAR teams were jumping to safety. "We should be fully spun up now, get us the hell outta here." ordered Nina. Raptor 4 disappeared.

**Checkpoint Alpha 1**

This would be the first of at least a dozen jumps back to the fleet's plotted position. Two jumps more than the original number to _Caprica,_ due to the fleet moving further along during the course of the SAR mission. Starbuck glanced at Helo's DRADIS screen, watching as Colonial transponders appeared. The final transponder materialized, Raptor 4 had arrived. Nina Nintius bought them much needed time to escape with fully loaded Raptors, and Kara prayed nonstop to Zeus for her safe deliverance. She was happy to see her prayers answered.

"Raptor 4, raptor 1...glad to see that you made it." said Starbuck over the comline.

"_Great to be be here Raptor 1, it didn't look too good there for a moment." _replied Nina. _"Just before jumping away, we picked up radiological warnings, looked like the Cylons decided to nuke the entire Delphi region."_

The SAR Raptors continued their plotted jumps, it was going to be awhile before they caught up to the fleet.


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64.

Colonial One – Office of the President

"While certainly not downplaying the severity of what happened, I have to say Bill, you dodged a bullet with her death." said Laura matter-of-factly into the receiver.

"I never had any intention of letting that particular bullet take me out, madam president. Unfortunately, the fallout will not be pretty. First Fisk, now Cain herself?" Bill Adamas voice sounded strained, even over the tightly scrambled channel used between the president, and commander of the Galactica. "Their Cylon prisoner is missing, and her guard was found dead in the cell of a broken neck. It doesn't take much to put two and two together, the longer it takes to recapture her, the longer the fleet will be in a panic."

"Then perhaps the less the fleet knows in this situation the better, commander." replied Laura.

"Not the response I expected from you, but nonetheless, Cain's death will no doubt get out, if it hasn't leaked already. We have to assume the six made it off Pegasus, and is now somewhere in the fleet."

"Well unless this six radically alters its appearance I don't anticipate a long search, her photo was long ago plastered throughout the fleet, along with Leoben's, and now D'Anna Biers. To be honest with you Bill, after reading Baltar's report on Cain's Cylon prisoner, I'm not at all surprised that this was how it ended for Helena Cain. Though I am somewhat surprised at the six's very human display of revenge." The subject was quickly changed. "Bill, who do you intend to replace Cain? Kara Thrace technically is her executive officer."

"I'll have to talk with Kara when she returns from Caprica, in the meantime I've left Renner in charge."

"I've read his file, Bill. Did Picon Command assign every malcontent in uniform to the Pegasus ?" asked Laura dryly.

"Pegasus was a "must have" assignment, Laura. She was the latest and greatest of the Mercury class Battlestar, and back then, Helena Cain's star was definitely rising. The current state of her crew I blame on Cain's apparent breakdown after the attack on the colonies. What she did to resupply her vessel, the forced conscription of civilians, how could anarchy not eventually occur. Renner is far from command quality, but he's capable of holding down the fort for the time being."

"You'll be transferring the flag to Galactica." it was more statement of fact then question, but William Adama knew that with Cain's death, he would be returned to full command of the fleet now that he was the senior military officer.

"Yes madam president, I will be issuing the order to Pegasus, and shortly after, the entire fleet. Admiral Cain's death isn't hard to determine, she was tortured by multiple gunshots to her extremities, not immediately fatal. Her death came immediately with a single gunshot to the head. I've ordered Renner to secure her quarters, and transfer her body to Pegasus morgue to be prepared for funeral services. Many of her crew, including her XO haven't returned from Caprica yet, and I intend to wait until they do to hold services aboard Pegasus...if you have no objections."

"No... of course not Bill, you're the commander of this fleet again, and I intend to return to the civilian and military relationship we had before Admiral Cain's arrival. Thank you for updating me, it's been so long since my office was appraised of anything of real importance." her gratitude was genuine, Helena Cain clearly disliked Laura Roslin, nor did she respect her or value her counsel as did William Adama. For the first time in weeks, Laura Roslin felt at ease.

Cloud Nine – Cabin Echo 106

Baltar rapped the cabin door several times before a voice called out "who is it?" Aboard the Cloud Nine luxury liner, only presidential suites on Alpha deck were equipped with video monitors that allowed the inhabitant to view who was calling upon them. The cabins on echo deck were far from luxurious, they were considered economy class, mostly assigned to colonists of modest incomes who saved their cubits for years to be able to afford a cruise around the solar system of the Colonies. These cabins did not contain private hot tubs, or saunas, though their beds were quite comfortable and of good quality. Echo 106 was inhabited by a very different occupant this day.

"It's Gaius." replied the vice president softly. The door slid opened, and Gaius Baltar quickly stepped through the opening. Gina Inviere stood before him in a black Pegasus track suit that was formerly owned by the now deceased Helena Cain, also Inviere's former lover. Her hair having been recently darkened to help conceal her identity, was tied back tightly in a pony tail, and she was sporting a trendy pair of glasses. The bruises on her wrists and ankles finally showing signs of healing. "I'm relieved that you were able to make it off Pegasus, and here to safety."

"Getting off Pegasus was easy, Gaius. You forget, I knew every compartment and hatchway as a systems analyst for Integral Systems Engineering."

"Back when you were a Cylon agent you mean?"

"Did you know that there is a human faction within the fleet demanding peace with the Cylons?" said Gina, ignoring Baltar's sarcasm. "They're calling themselves Demand Peace."

"Really, and what pray tell makes them believe that your kind would willingly enter into a truce with them?"

"They're enlightened, Gaius. They believe surrender to the Cylons is preferable to a life on the run in this ragtag fugitive fleet." replied Gina, gesturing to the various ships beyond the bulkhead walls.

"Well I must concur on some small level, constantly on the run from the next Cylon attack in ships never designed for prolonged space travel, wondering when our barely edible food supply will eventually run out, and the risk of discovering Earth being a mere myth would make a sane person take stock of their present situation." Baltar could not help but to peer deeply into Gina's eyes, he had not seen or heard from his "head six" in weeks, yet here was the object of his desires present in the flesh. He moved in closer to her, placing his hand gently on her side. "I've thought about you so much, Gina." He could feel her tense up at his touch, understanding full well her feelings of revulsion at physical contact, a trait very much out of the norm for her model.

"I hear you're gaining against Laura Roslin." observed Gina, attempting to change the subject.

"What surprises me more is that Laura Roslin has the level of support that she does, knowing full well that she has routinely lied to this fleet, and been far too cozy with the military element!" said Baltar, his face a picture of utter disgust.

"Take heart Gaius, God's plan for Laura Roslin has yet to be enacted, nor his plans for you." replied Gina softly. Baltar instinctively kissed her softly, his instincts were quickly proven wrong when she bit hip lip, drawing blood. Crying out, Baltar pulled back abruptly, his fingers immediately going to his mouth where he discovered blood.

"Are you mad?"demanded Baltar. Gina retreated to the cabin bed, sitting down, cradling a large pillow.

"I'm so sorry, Gaius... I didn't mean to...it, it's too soon." stammered Gina. Baltar was quickly at her side, this time making sure he did not touch her.

"It's alright Gina, It's me that should be apologizing. Being an educated man, I know full well the psychological and emotional scarring that can be left behind after abuse and torture. I'm here for you, if you'll allow me." The tenseness of her body minimized, as she smiled. She reached out her hand, which Baltar slowly took, holding it as if it were a delicate flower.

Deck 14 - Galactica Brig

"How are you holding up, D'Anna?" asked Matt through the receiver. He stood opposite the humanoid Cylon he knew and loved as D'Anna Biers. This was his first visit to her cell, something Commander Adama reluctantly granted

"Well I must admit, with the contacts I had within the fleet, I could always count on a decent meal. The food served to guests in Galactica's detention facility leaves much to be desired." joked D'Anna, her green eyes twinkling through the bullet-proof plexiglass observation window.

"Now you know how we feel, and we're the fraken protectors o' the fleet." replied Matt. There was silence between the two for several seconds. "Why?" asked Matt, no further wording was necessary, D'Anna knew what he was asking.

"Because I love you, Matthew Lensherr of Aerilon!" replied D'Anna with the utmost conviction.

"But how can you truly love me? Your aren't human, you're a Cylon."

"I'm not a centurion, Matt. I was created to be human in every sense of the word, while my flesh and blood may be synthetic, something I challenge any of you to tell by sense of touch, I have a soul, I have a mind and heart, and both tell me that I love you."

"Why me?" Matt pressed.

"In the beginning, my 'job' was to meet, seduce and ultimately compromise a high level officer in the Colonial military in order to facilitate the destruction of humanities military defenders."

"I was a junior lieutenant aboard the Triton!" shot back Matt. "Hardly a blip on the DRADIS of the janitor that cleaned Admiral Nagalla's office bathroom. What made me so special?"

"That day on Caprica beach I recall vividly," began D'Anna tapping the side of her head gently. "Silica pathways never lose a memory." laughed D'Anna as she continued. "You were laying on the sand close to the water, green knee-length swim suit and military dogtags dangling about your neck. You had dark sunglasses on, but I knew you were staring at me as I walked out of the surf."

"Not answering the question, lass." D'Anna smiled and continued.

"I thought you were incredibly handsome! Much more handsome than the geriatric rear-admiral I had spent the evening with before hand, working every miracle in my arsenal to get him sufficiently aroused...with little success I might add."

"Unlike a Cylon to divert from their programming." said Matt trying unsuccessfully to sound cold and distant.

"That's beneath you Matt, don't try to sound like them." said D'Anna dismissively. "I'm not some droll computer, I'm just as real as any human female, and like I mentioned to your friend Mark during one of our sessions...not all of the humanoid models are on the same page regarding humanity. After our time on Caprica together something unexpected happened to me. I didn't pursue that rear admiral from Picon Command, even though that was my primary mission. I thought about you after you returned to your Battlestar, thought about you a lot. I couldn't understand it, I knew that the Colonial fleet was going to be taken out early, I just didn't know the how, or by which particular model. I knew I didn't want to be responsible for your death that deep down I knew would happen regardless of what I did."

"Didn't your superiors have a problem with that?"

"I'm one copy of an entire series, Matthew. I wasn't the only Cylon with orders to infilitrate high ranking colonial flag officers. After you left I came to the conclusion that I really didn't want to take part in humanity's extermination, and decided to sit it out." The two stared intently at each other for what seemed like minutes. "Matthew Lensherr...I love you, and would see you safe at any cost."

"What about the rest of your line?" the voice boomed over the cell's speaker. Matt spun around to see Commander Adama in the guard station behind the observation window. He had been listening to the entire exchange.

"Commander Adama, very nice to see you again, I'm honored that I rate a visit from Zeus himself." said D'Anna with feined sweetness.

"Ms. Biers..." began Adama with some difficulty. "you state you're one copy of an entire line, does that mean your entire line is at odds with the other models regarding humanity."

"I really can't answer for them, commander. While we are the same model, each one of us is an individual." Adama grunted. "I don't suppose you're down here to grant me a pardon?"

"I wouldn't hold my breath Ms. Biers, I was just passing through." turning towards Matt he just gave him a look as if trying to figure out what the frak was wrong with him for loving this Cylon masquerading as a human woman. With that, he was gone.

Raptor 1

"Well Helo?" the impatience in her voice was no longer being attempted to be concealed. The SAR group should have reached the fleet two jumps ago. "We're fast approaching vapors in the tylium tanks, ya know." snapped Starbuck.

"Begging the colonel's pardon, but do I have to waste my breath, and the stale oxygen in this cabin stating the obvious to you?" replied Lt. Karl "Helo" Agathon in a forced tone of politeness. Starbuck knew Helo was right, he was a damned good Electronic Countermeasures Officer, and knew his job better than she. There were other potential variables as well, the fleet could have been forced to jump new another location due to a Cylon attack, or their navigational computers could have been off by a single digit in its plotting, anything was possible, but the bottom line was that they were running out of fuel, and the oxygen scrubbers were working overtime. The dradis alarm sounded.

"Single DRADIS contact bearing 421 carom 010..." warned Helo. "IFF is Colonial, that's Raptor 117." reported Helo as the red icon on the dradis screen turned green and was labled by its IFF.

"Say hello Helo." said Starbuck giving him a friendly jab with her elbow.

"Raptor One One Seven, this is Raptor One...over."

"Raptor One, this is One One Seven...welcome back to the land of the living. Mission status, sir?"

"One One Seven...mission a success...repeat mission a success."

"Roger that Raptor One, now if you're all ready, I'll take you home. Coordinates being transmitted to you...now." The coordinates for the fleet's current location was now transmitted over the wireless on a scrambled frequency. Five minutes later, with all SAR raptors in formation, and FTL drives spooled up, they vanished.

Combat Information Center – Galactica

Adama and Tigh stood at the plotting table in the center of Galactica's nerve center, after affixing his signature to the orders, he handed them to Tigh. "There, it's official! Get Lee off that hellhole, and reinstate him to his rank and status as CAG effective RFN." Under Admiral Cain, Adama was helpless to prevent the transfer of his son off Galactica when Cain enacted transfers with the belief that she was somehow improving, and saving Adama's command. He had no doubt that this was her way of showing who was boss. To make matters worse, he was demoted in rank and assigned to Pegasus' Raptor wing. With Lee Adama reinstatement as Commander of the Air Group, Matthew Lensherr would be returning to his assignment as squadron leader of Silver Spar squadron.

"Right away, sir!" snapped Tigh. He had a very rocky reltionship with Leland Adama, whom he knew since the day he was born. He felt his friend Bill's pain as Lee had been ordered transferred to Pegasus, and for all of Lee's faults, Tigh knew that Galactica was where he belonged, and in what capacity. Lee was a very good viper pilot, but chose to serve in the Colonial reserves instead of full time like his father, the man he initially blamed for his brother Zac's death. The two Adamas eventually came to terms with Zac's death, and despite the occasional differences, grew very close.

"Commander, long range scans have picked up Raptor 117 and the SAR team." reported Lt. Felix Gaeta from his station at tactical. "They're missing a raptor, sir...612." he added mournfully. Colonial Raptor 612 was assigned to Pegasus, and even though he expected far greater losses, he was still deeply saddened by the loss of that single raptor.

"Very well, mister Gaeta, please add it to the log." He turned his attention to the communications station. "Dee, patch me through to Raptor 1." He picked up the headset and put it on.

"Aye aye sir." replied Dualla. The connection was made, and Dualla motioned to Adama that the line was patched through to the headset attached to the plotting table's communication display.

"Raptor One, Galactica actual...over."

"Galactica actual, Raptor One receivers loud and clear...over." He was relieved to hear Kara's voice on the line.

"What do you hear, colonel?" he prompted.

"Nothing but the rain, sir." came the expected reply. This had been a private joke between the two of them for a very long time. He keyed the mic one more time.

"Grab your gun, and bring in the cat then." he replied. After a pause, he spoke again. "Welcome back Kara, you're directed to land on Galactica, checkers green." Kara was surprised by this, she had expected to be landing on her own Battlestar, and it wasn't until just then that she also realized that the first communication was coming from Adama and not from Cain. Within a half hour the fleet was now within view of the SAR raptors, Starbuck was perplexed to see the Pegasus further back in the fleet, as if guarding the rear flank, something that until recently was Galactica's position.

The entire port landing bay was filled with Raptors returning from their mission to Caprica. They rotated in and out along the docking collars along the upper level, discharging their passengers, then returning to their assigned Battlestars.

Hanger Bay B – Galactica

There had been little time to organize anything too formal, but Commander Adama had gotten many off duty personnel to the hanger bay to give Starbuck's SAR team and the Caprican Resistance members a proper welcome. A Raptor had been dispatched to Colonial 1 to bring the president and vice president to Galactica the moment the SAR mission returned and were enroute to Galactica.

As planned, two elevators from the upper level, normally used to raise or lower the 50 ton Raptors and Vipers were used to lower the SAR team and Sam Ander's brave fighters down into the hanger to a thunderous applause from a sea of crewmembers standing in very loose formation. Starbuck had approached Adama and Tigh and stood at attention, snapping out a stiff salute. Adama quickly returned her salute and embraced her tightly.

"Welcome back Kara, outstanding job." William Adama was not known for his public displays of affection, smiled broadly at the woman who was like a daughter to him. Kara's wide grin failed to hide the tears that started to well up in her eyes.

"Mission accomplished commander, however...I regret to inform you of the loss of Raptor 612 and Raptor 6."

"Racetrack and Skulls made it, Kara. They were back shortly afetr you left, with an amazing discovery that you'll be briefed on soon.

"Welcome back Colonel Thrace." said Laura Roslin extending her hand. "Great job, you are indeed a credit to this fleet, as are the men and women who returned to Caprica.

"Thank you madam president." replied Starbuck as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Kara continued scanning the crowd before her, Adama immediately knew who she was looking for.

"Admiral Cain isn't here?" asked Starbuck.

"We'll discuss that shortly, Kara...in my quarters." replied Adama in a tone she recognized as one that booked no further inquiries. With a raised eyebrow, Kara nodded her understanding and then continued to shake hands, high five and hug those who had come to welcome her back. The jubulent mood is soon shattered.

"Code Blue!" the booming voice belonged to Master Chief Tyrol as he made his way closer to the crowd, towards the resistance team's spiritual advisor in particular, brother Cavil. "He's a Cylon!" Colonial Marines that had accompanied Brother Cavil back from Caprica immediately trained their weapons on the older man. Adama, is face red with rage turned towards Sharon Valerii who conveniently left out the fact that Brother Cavil was a humanoid Cylon before they left on the SAR mission, and now upon their return.

"Throw both of them in the brig, now!" As the older man was put in shackles, he came within feet from Adama.

"Commander Adama, I've come here to tell you that the war between Cylon and humanity is over. The Cylons have left the colonies for good, and we've agreed that it's time to go our separate ways."

"Get them both to the brig, and find the brother Cavil thats on this ship and get him down to the brig as well!" ordered Adama, ignoring Caprica Brother Cavil's comments. "Colonel Tigh, dismiss the crew and secure the hanger bay. Those resistance fighters can be brought down to Cottle so he can evaluate each and every one of them medically. Meet me in my quarters when you're done!" ordered Adama. He then asked the president and Starbuck to accompany him, Baltar was left standing there alone. Infuriated he returned to the Raptor that transported him from Colonial 1.

Commander Adama's Quarters

"Murdered?" The shock in her voice was evident. Admiral Helena Cain couldn't possibly be murdered in her own quarters, on her own Battlestar. Her private security was handpicked from the best Colonial Marines she had aboard.

"We have to assume she was murdered by the female Cylon prisoner, who just so happens to be missing." said Adama. Laura Roslin sat on the couch listening intently, Colonel Tigh who had just arrived minutes before, stood against the wall.

"How could she have escaped her cell, much less make it out of a secure detention facility and straight to the commanding officer's private stateroom unseen?" Starbuck's irritation was now evident.

"Lieutenant Sarnex and Sgt. Hadrain have been assigned to investigate Admiral Cain's murder, and to ascertain if the Cylon had any accomplices in the crime." replied Adama. "In the meantime, it would appear that Pegasus is without a commanding officer, colonel." The implications were clear, Kara Thrace was the executive officer, and with Cain's death, she was now the executive officer according to military rules and regulations. Cain didn't retire, or get reassigned to another position within Colonial fleet where a new executive officer could be chosen or reassigned from elsewhere. The vacancy occurred during a time of war, and the executive officer would normally be expected to be promoted.

"Who have you got in mind, commander?"

"Kara, you are the Pegasus' executive officer, naturally the position is yours." replied Adama.

"Viper jock to commanding a Battlestar? I'm sure colonel Tigh's stomach is turning in all sorts of directions as we speak." said Starbuck casting a sidelong glance towards her counterpart.

"Amazing how you have bouts of clarity from time to time, Starbuck." grunted Tigh.

"Kara, we have all been thrusted into uncharted waters since the attack on the colonies," began Adama. "The Secretary of Education became president, an aging Battlestar commander with zero future in the military soon finds himself sheparding the remains of humanity, and yes... a viper jock with more time in hack than in the cockpit is handed the keys to the most advanced Battlestar ever commissioned. Uncharted waters indeed. So what do you say?" The room was silent, Kara's eyes stared straight ahead at the opened file on Cain's murder that lay spread out on the coffee table before her.

"I would say...thank you, but no thank you." said Kara softly. She lifted her eyes to meet Adama's. "Everyone in this room , myself included, know I'm not qualified to command a Battlestar. Everyone in this room, with the exception of Colonel Tigh had the good manners to keep their comments about it to themselves, but he is right...for once." This drew a disapproving glare from Tigh. "CAG I could barely handle, even though I have zero concerns about my flying and combat abilities, it was the day to day scheduling, paperwork, meetings, counseling statements to fraked up pilots that drove me to dislike the job. I just wanna fly vipers, and kill toasters, commander. I never should have allowed myself to be put into this position."

"Admiral Cain was a difficult person to say no to, Kara. There is no shame in that." offered Laura gently. Starbuck merely nodded.

"Kara, if this is your official response, I'll respect that. I just want you to be sure." said Adama.

"What would I do, commander?"

"If CAG isn't to your liking I can temporarily assign you to flight trainer aboard Pegasus. Pegasus has more vipers than pilots, and I want to make sure they're trained right before getting you back here... where you belong." William Adama's last words reminded Kara why she loved the old man so much. Even after the pain she caused him when admitting that she was responsible for Zac's death, Adama continued to think of her as the daughter he never had. The tone in his voice now proved he still had.

"Then flight trainer it is, commander." said Kara smiling broadly.

"At captain's rank." replied Adama smiling. Kara saluted Adama, made some sort of slight bow to Roslin, and rolled her eyes at Tigh. Some things never changed it seemed.


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65.

After Starbuck and Tigh removed themselves from Adama's quarters, Roslin remained seated. Adama knew her well enough to know that she had more on her mind. He walked over to his sideboard and poured two small snifters of Caprican brandy. Handing one to her, he sat down opposite her on the chair usually positioned in front of his desk for guests. Taking a sip, he finally broke the silence. "What's on your mind, madam president?"

"You." she replied flatly. Adama was slightly surprised, but as was his nature, his face rarely revealed the secrets of his mood and emotions. She took a small box from her suit jacket pocket and placed it on the coffee table between them, sliding it slowly in his direction.

"What's this?" Asked Adama, slowly picking up the small box.

"You've been a Battlestar commander for quite a few years Bill," began Laura. "But since the attacks on the colonies, you've stepped up to the plate and became commander for this entire civilian fleet. With the addition of another colonial warship now under your command, it would seem that your current rank is not what is required according to military rules and regulations." Adama removed the box lid and beheld two collar pins; the rank was that of rear admiral. Laura's face was beaming; she took a sip of her brandy, stood ramrod straight and gave voice to the words that she had been secretly rehearsing since Admiral Cain's death. "Commander William Adama, by the power vested in me as the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, I hereby promote you to the rank of Rear Admiral effective RFN!" Adama burst out laughing at the president's use of the profane military jargon. The laughter subsided, and he looked closely at the admiral's rank in the palm of his hand.

"I gave up hope of ever seeing this rank." said Adama softly.

"You deserve it Bill, you've been the glue that has kept this fleet together in these trying times since our near extinction. With two Battlestars under your command in this fleet, you are required to be the correct rank. Leaning close, Laura unfastened the commander insignia from Adama's tunic and placed them gently on the coffee table. Taking the admiral's pins from Adama's hand, she placed them on his collar. She stepped back and looked him over, a smile crept across her face and she reached in and gently kissed him on the lips. "Congratulations Admiral Adama!"

As the days pass, the election process grows more acrimonious between Baltar and Roslin. The newly discovered planet has remained under the tightest security until further tests, and investigations of its suitability can be realized. Aboard the Pegasus, former chief engineer Barry Garner is promoted to commander of the Pegasus. Executive Officer Renner suffers a slight stroke and his relieved of duty until further notice. Captain Lee Adama is temporarily assigned to be Garner's number two, and it isn't long before he regrets his decision to reluctantly accept. Since ascending from engine room to the CIC, Garner's interaction with flight trainer and now Pegasus CAG Kara Thrace had deteriorated quickly. When two raptors go missing during a training mission, Garner quickly blames Thrace for not being 'on the ball' in regard to her air wing. Still seething with anger, Starbuck makes a surprise visit to the officer's latrine to confront the Pegasus pilots about not informing her about the missing Raptors. Much to her surprise, one of her pilots informs her that Commander Garner hasn't authorized anyone outside the Pegasus crew to be informed of flight deck situations.

"I'm not an outsider...I'm the fraking CAG, you felgercarb-sucking moron!" Kara kicks over a garbage can, and says "wow...barely competent and paranoid," clearly directed to the new commander, which immediately gets back to him shortly after. "Now, get your asses dressed and report to the ready room so we can make some sense as to what the frak happened to our people!" ordered Starbuck, slamming the hatch shut loudly as she departed.

The pilots are soon standing at attention in the ready room when Starbuck enters. "Just sit down!" orders Starbuck in disgust.

"Now that I've made it clear who is God aboard this Battlestar, we're going to roll up our sleeves and figure out what the frak happened to that training mission." Over the next few hours, Thrace and her senior pilots review the last transmissions from the Raptors. It's soon discovered that evidence gleaned point to the possibility that the missing Raptors may have responded to a distress call.

Combat Information Center – Pegasus

Barry Garner and newly appointed XO Lee Adama stood privately by the plotting table, Garner's mood worsening by the moment. "Look Major, I've had it up to here with Kara Thrace!" complained Garner while raising his hand up to head level. "I'm not going to allow her to subvert, or ridicule my authority!" As if on cue, Starbuck arrives, coming to a position of attention she clearly makes no effort to show is under duress.

Kara attempts to explain her theory about how the pilots may have disappeared, but Garner wasn't having anything to do with it, or her. Word of her disparaging and insubordinate comments about him to his pilots quickly made their way back to him, and he wasn't happy. The two quickly descended into arguing, and Kara's final crack about "venting accurately," pushed Garner over the edge. Over Lee's respectful objections, he orders Thrace confined to quarters for insubordination.

Colonial One – Office of the Vice President

Gaius Baltar at times missed his spacious lab that was given to him aboard the Galactica when he was still just a scientist working on a Cylon detector for Commander Adama. The office assigned to the vice president was a converted storage room next to the crew latrine. Every time someone flushed the toilet Baltar cringed. This day he had a visitor, Tom Zarek, Former terrorist and quorum member Thomas Zarek had dropped his challenge to Laura Roslin for the presidency, knowing there was no way he could beat her. Instead he threw his support against the one man who could, Baltar.

"This is absolutely maddening!" complained Gaius bitterly. "There is no logical reason why Laura Roslin should be anywhere near me in poll numbers."

"Your humility is inspiring, Gaius." remarked Zarek sarcastically. "However, we do need to finish her off once and for all. You need an issue that will push you over the top."

"What would you suggest Mr. Zarek?"

"Fresh air and soil!"

"I beg your pardon?" At that moment, on the other side of the thin bulkhead was someone answering nature's call. The sound of the latrine flushing evoked an uncharacteristic response from Baltar. He jumped up from his small desk and slammed his palm against the wall several times. "Do you mind?"

He yelled, startling Zarek.

"Fresh air and soil, as in the planet that Galactica discovered hidden within a nebula." This brought Baltar up short, only a select few knew of the existence of this planet. Its existence was being kept secret until detailed surveys could be done to judge suitability. Zarek smiled at Baltar's surprise. "I'm not sure if I should be amused or insulted by your response, Gaius. Did you honestly think for one moment that I wouldn't have heard about this?"

"No, I guess I shouldn't be surprised Mr. Zarek, you are quite resourceful." replied Baltar.

"Laura Roslin is on some religious journey," explained Zarek. "There is a planet that could very well serve as a refuge for our people, to stop running and feel the soil beneath their feet, and fresh air in their lungs, and yet she won't stop. The only destination she cares about is Earth, people be damned."

"And what are you proposing, leak the existence of the planet?" asked Baltar.

"Not yet." replied Zarek. "At the right time you throw down that card, ramming it straight down Roslin's throat. Then you, Gaius Baltar, the man of the people, give them what they desperately need."

"And that being what?" asked Baltar.

"Hope. You give them what Laura Roslin won't, you give them a planet to call home, to stop running and start living." Baltar immediately understood, how had he missed that before?

"This could work..." said Baltar softly to himself.

"This will work!" corrected Zarek. A knock at the hatch interrupted the conversation. A female Petty Officer 2nd class stood outside the door when Baltar opened it.

"Cassandra, what can I do for you?" asked Baltar.

"Mister vice president, the equipment from your lab aboard Galactica has been delivered to Cloud Nine as instructed." Zarek noted Baltar stiffen at the report given by the young petty officer, as if it was something Baltar didn't want him to know about.

"Yes...very good, Cassandra. Thank you for your diligence." replied Baltar as he slipped her a key card surreptitiously. Zarek averted his gaze to a small framed painting hung on the bulkhead as Baltar turned around. Obviously the vice president had his own secrets, thought Zarek.

Combat Information center – Galactica

"Let me understand this commander," began Adama. "Captain Thrace believes that the distress signal the last recon received was the same type of distress signal that the missing raptors responded to, and that she believes it to be a Cylon trap?"

"That would be her uneducated guess, admiral. I see nothing that would lead me to suspect any kind of trap." replied Garner arrogantly, his voice sounding tinny over the wireless. "I'm preparing Pegasus to jump to that location to save my men."

"Major Adama, your opinion on Captain Thrace's theory?" asked Adama, knowing full well that this would infuriate Garner as commander. But he didn't care; Adama valued his son's opinion, and would ask for it when he damn well wanted to. The momentary pause no doubt was Lee attempting to phrase his reply carefully as to not needlessly infuriate Garner.

"Admiral, I fully concur with Captain Thrace's theory. I believe the signal we are receiving is indeed a trap."

"Commander Garner, I'll authorize a recon mission of five raptors to determine whether or not the missing raptors from that training mission are the source of that distress signal, or not." Garner angrily severs the transmission with the flagship and spins around to face his executive officer.

"Thank you for your help major, I think I can handle things from here." said Garner, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Lee nods and gratefully leaves the CIC.

CAG's Stateroom – Pegasus

Starbuck leaned back in her chair, a large grin splashed across her face. "So the old man smacked garner down, eh? Wish I could have been there to see it." gloated Kara.

"Do you ever get tired of stirring the felgercarb, Kara?" asked Lee. He declined the silver flask that Kara offered him; gods only knew what was in it. Under Cain, punishment for a distillery was quite severe, Fisk would do his best to turn a blind eye to those smaller distilleries as long as they didn't bring attention to themselves, the larger distillers, and he routinely shook down for free bottles of their finished product. Garner was far different from both of his predecessors, he wasn't from the command staff, and he was a 'snipe". Barry Garner was an excellent engineer who maintained the top rated section of any warship, unfortunately, his mastery of commanding a Battlestar was anything but.

"I feel bad for you Lee, clearly your father sent you here to babysit that idiot when Renner went and stroked himself out, what's the prognosis on him by the way?" asked Kara taking a pull from the flask.

"I marvel at your sensitivity, Starbuck." replied Lee. "Cottle thinks Renner's rehab won't be as long as initially thought, but let's put it this way...I'm not heading back to Galactica any time soon. Until our science teams return from that planet with their results, we'll continue to sail around in circles, occasionally short jumping to the next quadrant, but never going too far. The fleet captains most likely are wondering why we're not making any traveling headway, but know better enough than to ask publicly. Those that have, my father just told them that he has scouting ships still out and doesn't want to pull too far away from them."

"Maybe he should just tell them to shut the frak up, and just follow orders." replied Starbuck bitterly.

"Yeah," laughed Lee. "Because that always worked for you." The two shared a laugh and continued to talk for another hour when the klaxon sounded. The shipboard P.A. Announced that Pegasus would be making a combat jump to rescue the missing raptor team. Lee and Kara leapt to their feet.

"What the frak is he doing? My father ordered him to maintain position while he sent out a 5 raptor recon mission." said Lee angrily.

"Like I said earlier, paranoid and incompetent!" said Starbuck buttoning up her tunic.

"Alright Kara, I'll deal with Garner, get your ass to the flight deck, if this is a trap, then I want my best pilot out there." ordered Lee.

"So you're acknowledging I'm the best pilot?" teased Kara grabbing her flight suit from the rack.

"Seeing that I'm not going...yes, that would then be a true statement." countered Lee as he raced out of the CAG's stateroom.

Combat Information Center – Pegasus

Lee was running at a full sprint, and was just one deck below the CIC when the ship jumped away. Materializing at their new location, Lee was thrown against a nearby bulkhead because he was not stationary during the jump, which was always highly recommended. He wiped the blood away that was trickling down his nose. Upon reaching the CIC, the Marine Guard stepped aside to allow him to enter.

"Commander, what are we doing?" demanded Lee. "The admiral ordered us to maintain position in the fleet."

"I'm getting my men, major!" snapped Garner. "Action is required if we're going to bring them back home."

"Commander Garner, I am hereby relieving you of command for disobeying the explicit orders from the admiral of the fleet." announced Lee loudly. "Marine!" called out Lee over his shoulder. Colonial Marine Sgt. Steve Velle was a native of Tauron, standing well over six feet his was an imposing presence. He stepped up close to Lee and turned towards Garner. Looking up at Velle, Lee instructed him to carry out his orders. He didn't move, clearly he was there to protect Garner.

With an arrogant smile, Garner turned to Lee. "You see major, aboard this ship, personnel follow orders, and don't take kindly to mutineers." he turned towards Velle, "Sergeant, remove Major Adama from the CIC and confine him to the brig!" Before either man could move, the lead Pegasus SAR raptor had located the missing raptors adrift in space and radioed in.

"Pegasus, Raptor 3...we've located the two missing raptors drifting in close proximity together, both crews are dead...over."

Garner's face blanched when tactical officer Lt. Louis Hoshi warned of multiple DRADIS contacts jumping into the area. Cylon Basestars arrived, the trap was sprung.

"Radiological warning! Incoming nukes!" warned Hoshi as the three Cylon Basestars launched their missiles. Point defense turrets filled the skies with flak, hoping to take out the mixture of conventional and nuclear missiles coming their way. One nuclear tipped missile struck a blow to the engineering section, immediately disabling the FTL drives.

"FTL drive offline, commander!" warned the helmsman. Lee noticed that Garner didn't reply, and seemed to start talking to himself. He could make out that Garner was contemplating the various possibilities for the drive failure. They were totally defensive, and someone had to act.

"Mr. Hoshi sound action stations!" ordered Lee, hoping to snap Garner back to the present. "Launch all squadrons; we're a sitting duck out here!" Sgt. Velle immediately withdrew back to his previous position, it was clear that the executive officer was maintaining his composure during the attack, and now might not be the best time to drag him to the brig. Garner was immediately on the line to engineering, demanding a sitrep. It would appear that Lee would have to deal with the Cylon attack himself.

"Raise Raptor 3 and 6 over the wireless, inform them to try and tow our raptors back to Pegasus immediately," ordered Lee. "Detail red squadron to provide cover for them." Six squadrons had been launched from Pegasus, but they were still heavily outnumbered by raiders. Lee could hear Garner arguing with his chief engineer over the sound of impacts on the heavily shielded hull by enemy fire.

"_Commander Garner!"_ yelled Lee loudly. Garner slammed down the receiver back into its cradle and faced Lee.

"They just don't understand my directions," said Garner as if in a daze. I need to get down there and explain it to them!"

"I beg your pardon...you're leaving the CIC?" asked Lee incredulously.

"I have to make them understand major, otherwise we'll be stuck here and then we're dead! You're in command, major!" said Garner for all to hear, and then he was gone. Still in shock at being placed in full command during the attack, Lee orders the helmsman to move Pegasus to a more defensive orientation and to target the closest Basestars with their bow batteries. The ship shuddered as their massive bow batteries opened fire. The shielding of a Cylon Basestar was extremely minimal; they depended on their overwhelming raider force to protect them. Four direct hits from close range severely crippled the Cylon capital ship, sending it hurtling out of control.


	66. The Hephaestus Chronicles chapter 66

Chapter 66.

Starbuck had ordered the airwing to engage the enemy fighters and lead them away from the Pegasus who was now going toe to toe with the Basestars. Many if the nuclear tipped missiles had been intercepted, but several had struck true. If not for Pegasus' heavy shielding, and the relatively low yield of the nukes, the fight would be over shortly. Not even the heaviest shielded Colonial Battlestar could withstand more than four or five nuclear hits. Her Mk. VII viper had a pair of raiders on its tail, and despite her best efforts, Starbuck couldn't shake them.

"_Starbuck, Showboat...drop and roll to your eight!" _Lieutenant Marcia "Showboat" Case had seen her CAG's predicament and moved in to intercept. Having Starbuck drop low and to the port side to the eight o'clock position would clear her field of fire of the person she was trying to help. Immediately, Kara depressed the thruster pedal to the firewall and snapped her control cyclic to the left and rear. Showboat arced her viper into a long curve, heading directly for the raiders that were pursuing Starbuck. She placed a dozen 30mm rounds in a tight shot group, slicing the front section of the biomechanical raider clean off. The second raider quickly compensated and banked hard to its starboard side, barely evading Showboat's attack.

Several vipers fell victim to the unyielding raider attack, and Lee knew the ship was taking too much of a pounding to stay in the fight much longer. The LSO reported that the disabled raptors were on final approach to the port landing bay, towed by other raptors.

"Secure those Raptors as soon as they land, I want the landing bays ready to receive the air wing!" ordered Lee.

**Engineering Section – Pegasus**

Commander Barry Garner knew exactly what the problem was with the FTL drive when he saw the computer readouts. The problem was, that where the FTL drive was housed was in a large chamber that had it's structural integrity severly compromised by the nuclear attack. Twice Garner had been knocked off his feet by the impact of the incoming Cylon ordinance. After inspecting the atmospheric gauge of the chamber, Garner turned towards his old friend who had succeeded him as chief engineer.

"Jonah, get me an extra large pressure suit and breathing apparatus." ordered Garner.

"Commander, the DC teams are barely containing several large fires, pressure suits and breathing apparatus are all being used currently." informed the chief engineer. A massive explosion knocked Garner headlong into the hatch, opening a two inch gash above his left eye. Time had run out, they had to get out of that deathtrap he foolishly led them into.

"Frak it Jonah, you've got the tools I asked for?" The chief engineer raised an eyebrow, as he passed a greasy rag from his pocket to Garner to wipe the blood away from the cut.

"Commander...?"

"I'm doing it myself, Jonah. Nobody, yourself included, knows the FTL drive on a Mercury class better than me. We're out of time, and I don't have the time to wait for an enviornmental suit and oxygen."

"Commander, the pressure gauge is halfway to the red, with the O2 sensors not far behind it." observed the chief engineer. "We take another serious hit in this section and we're looking at a forced decompression...game over, you're dead!"

"We're wasting time Jonah, open the hatch and get me my tools!" This time his words clearly had the force of an order. The chief engineer reluctantly complied. With some effort, Garner was able to enter the chamber and make his way through the labyrinth of tunnels and piping. The air was extremely thin, and with the slight head injury he suffered, Garner knew he had a very short window of success.

**Combat Information Center – Pegasus**

"Major Adama, we've brunted the main thrust of the attack, but that second Basestar is coming about." called out Lt. Hoshi. As a senior officer, Lee was required to know the bare basics of combat systems aboard a Battlestar, and Lee had spend many nights going over Pegasus' offensive and defensive capabilities when initially pulled from his father's ship, and reassigned to Cain.

"Bring us about on a one – one – oh heading, bring topside batteries Alpha through Echo to bear and open fire upon acquiring a lock." The helmsman quickly brought the massive warship about, taking several more hits, this time to the aligator's head, sparing the aft section that had been the Cylon's main point of interest.

After what seemed like an eternity, the helmsman's computer screen which was indicating the status of the ship's FTL drive flashed from red to green. The words **FTL ONLINE **flashed brightly.

"Major, we have jump capability!" Alerted the helmsman.

"Lt. Hoshi, recall the air wing, combat landings authorized." snapped Lee. The recall notice went out over the wireless, and Pegasus' vipers sped for home with Cylon raiders in full pursuit. Defensive fire filled the air around Pegasus, leaving a narrow corridor approaching each flight pod for the vipers. Targeting computers zeroed in on approaching spacecraft broadcasting Cylon IFFs. The casualties were light, but there were casualties.

"The air wing is secured, major!"

"Jump us the hell out of here, back to the fleet." ordered Lee Adama.

**Admiral Adam's Quarters – Two days later**

Lee stood comfortably before his father while the elder Adama read his official report regarding the death of Commander Barry Garner. Once finished, the elder Adama removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He finally spoke. "Starbuck's report wasen't so kind!"

"I'm not Starbuck." replied Lee a little more sharply than he wish he had.

"Relax Lee, I'm just trying to take this all in. Garner was _my_ pick, therefore _my_ responsibility. Why do you thing he failed as commander?" Lee looked to the ceiling, as if searching for the answer, then looked down directly into his father's eyes.

"Garner was used to working with machines, " Lee said thoughtfully. "Command is about people."

William Adama smiled slightly and stood up. "Remember that Lee!" He walked around the desk and held out two collar pins in his hand. The rank indicated _Commander. _Lee looked at them with confusion.

"Sir?"

"Never forget that command is about people, Lee. Take care of your crew, and they in turn will take care of you. I'm promoting you to Commander, and placing the Pegasus into your capable hands." Lee was stunned, this was something he had not expected. "Unless you have better things to do?"

"No sir, I won't let you down!" replied Lee crisply.

"I know you won't Lee, you're my son." Lee extended his hand, but the elder Adama ignored it and embraced his son.

Days pass as Commander Leland Adama adjusts to his new role as master of the _Pegasus_. His choice for executive officer was an out-of-the-box choice worthy of Starbuck. Kendra Shaw, a Ministry Defence Officer assigned to _Pegasus_ just before the Cylon attack on the Colonies was the daughter of a well-liked Quorum delegate named Marta Shaw. Shaw quickly gained Cain's respect, who saw in her the potential to become just the type of officer that Helena Cain thought should be the standard for a Battlestar officer. During his cram session to learn about his new crew, Lee was surprised to see the contrast in efficiency reports between Cain, Fisk and Garner on Shaw's performance. Cain had glowing tributes, while Fisk and Garner had consistantly given her negative evaluations, Garner even demoting her in rank, and reassigned her to mess hall duties.

Having met with Shaw, he learned that her level of respect for his predeccessors, and even himself was far below satisfactory. He found himself admiring her honesty, and realized that being an outsider brought in to clean up Pegasus' mess, he too would be viewed negatively. His decision to make her his executive officer was mostly due in part that he _needed _an XO that would continue Cain's legacy, even if he was disgusted by it. He needed to change this crew of malcontents, and Shaw was his best chance to do so. Kara, who had been at Lee's side ever since being sworn in as commander was not at all impressed with Lee's choice for executive officer, and made no pretence to pretend otherwise. The buzzer on his desk indicated he was receiving a call from the CIC.

"Commanding officer!" he replied. The communications officer in the CIC had informed him that the admiral was on final approach, and was requesting an immediate audience with him. Lee hung up and made his way to the starboard flight pod where his father's raptor would be arriving momentarily.

"Good morning admiral." greeted Lee, as Adama stepped off the raptor onto the hanger deck.

"Good morning commander." replied the elder Adama. The two walked to the upper decks into the main body of the Pegasus. On deck 16 the two are now in _Marine Country, _a term referencing the level that housed the Colonial Marine contingent aboard Pegasus. Passing one of the training rooms, father and son witness a firearm drill being conducted by Shaw. The senior Adama is impressed, commenting that Lee found an XO meaner than his own on Galactica. Lee finally turned to his father and asked what he was doing on Pegasus.

"I have a mission for you." he replied. "A search and rescue mission for two pilots and a civilian science team in an overdue Raptor."

"How long?"

"Long enough to classify this as a serious problem."

"I'll take care of it dad."

"Get in and out of there, Lee. Don't fight any battles you feel can be avoided if you do come across any Cylons." He gripped his son's shoulder. "Good hunting, commander."

**Quadrant Delta Six**

The flash of an FTL jump disturbs the quiet of the quadrant designated Delta Six, a Mercury class Colonial Battlestar glides majestically through space like a shark hunting for prey. In one of her many launch tubes, Captain Kara Thrace, the commander of the air group, sits in her Mk. VII viper waiting to launch. Her wingmate is Lieutenant Marcia "Showboat" Case. After receiving clearance to launch, the 'shooter' sends the two vipers downrange into the icy void of space. They are but one of three viper teams dispatched to conduct a search for the missing Raptors last reported in this quadrant. An hour into the patrol, Starbuck reports that she and Showboat are totally defensive against a superior number of unknown hostiles. The tactical officer aboard Pegasus is able to identify the attacking craft as Cylon in origin, however these were not the biomechanical Cylon raiders that Starbuck had faced many times.

Establishing a defensive perimeter, the Pegasus' point defense turrets overshoot the incoming vipers, and wreaks havoc on the pursuing raiders. Executive officer Shaw, no longer able to stay silent, asks Lee why he hasn't launched alert fighters.

"We're not fighting XO," replied Lee. "we're gonna recover our SAR teams and jump back to the fleet." His tone left no doubt that this was an order not to be questioned. When the announcement that the navigational computer has malfunctioned, Lee quickly made his way to the helm to see if he could assist.

"_Pegasus – Starbuck...where's the alert vipers? These guys are not taking your hint to back off...over."_

Walking over to the tactical officer, Shaw ordered point defense turrets changed from _select fire_ to _full_ _auto-fire close range._ Within moments, the skies around Starbuck and Showboat's vipers were filled with anti aircraft fire, buffeting them mercilously.

"_What the frak...we're in Pegasus' engagement zone, Showboat stay tight on my port wing and open up with all you got, we're gonna shoot ourselves a hole!"_ ordered Starbuck over the comline.

"Will that help?" replied Showboat.

"_No, but it'll make you feel better!"_ quipped Starbuck not feeling the least jocular. Her viper took some indirect hits, one resulting in a cracked canopy. Starbuck's anger was approaching a murderous rage, she swore to herself she was going to throttle the weapons officer for switching pod point defense turrets to _full auto-fire close range. _ Starbuck chopped power as the nose of her viper cleared the front of the massive opening of the flight pod. She was surprised when her port engine took a direct hit from behind. Glancing down at her dradis screen she was surprised to see a lone Cylon still on her six. Tracer rounds zipped by her close enough to reach out and touch, striking the interior walls of the flight pod.

Years of training, military aviation tournements, and eventually combat made Kara Thrace arguably the best viper pilot in the fleet, both pre and post Cylon attack. The heat of battle had given way to almost utter silence in Kara Thrace's cockpit. The tracer rounds passed by as if in slow motion as Kara expertly flipped her viper end over end, coming face to face with her Cylon pursuer using her maneuvering thrusters. The twin Thraxon 30 mm kinetic energy weapons were joined by the smaller caliber kew mounted on the vertical stabilizer in unleashing a barrage of return fire towards the raider. The raider took the full brunt of the blast and unexpectedly climbed, striking the massive steel support struts along the ceiling of the flight pod. It pinwheeled out of control, and against all odds, crash landed in an inverted position atop Starbuck's viper, pinning her to the deck and rear wall.


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67.

Where the hell did _they_ come from?" asked a very surprised Commander Lee Adama. The hydraulic lift descended from the landing bay into hanger bay 2 aboard the Pegasus. A Cylon raider lay in a crumpled heap, dripping all sorts of fluids from multiple 30 mm penetration points. The thick cockpit window was shattered, and a Cylon centurion was halfway through it, damaged beyond repair. To the bewilderment of everyone present, these were not present day Cylon centurions, nor the bio-mechanical Raider that viper pilots aboard both Battlestars fought almost daily.

"The last time I saw a Cylon War era centurion was in the history books during basic training!" quipped Showboat.

Two armed Colonial Marines stepped foreward, Sharon Valerii inched her way through them up to the raider. She was manacled from neck to hands to feet in titanium shackles. She viewed the antique centurions closely.

"Starbuck, these were the _only_ raiders you encountered out there?" asked Lee.

"Yes sir, from the few chances I had to check my six without getting my ass blown off, these were the only ones out there. Nothing like the bio-mechanical raiders we've fought, or captured." replied Starbuck, still patting the blood from her lip. Just prior to Admiral Adama and the president arriving, she and executive officer kendra Shaw came moments away from trading blows. Starbuck was furious at Shaw's decision to switch to full automatic firing of the point defense batteries upon her and Showboat's landing. If not for Lee's timely defusing of the situation, he would indeed be needing a new executive officer, due to the old one being beaten senseless by a very pissed off CAG.

"Why would the Cylons resurrect a series, which by their own standards is hopelessly obsolete?" asked Roslin.

"These may be _Guardian Centurions!_" announced Valerii.

"I beg your pardon?" said Lee, still wondering why his father had ordered their Cylon prisoner brought over from Galactica's brig.

"The Guardians, according to legend, were a group of Cylon-War era Centurions that protected the first Cylon Hybrid, as it traveled into deep space following the Armistice."

"_Legend?_ Like you people have legends!" sniffed Starbuck irritably.

William Adama slowly closed his eyes as if trying to remember something, quickly opening them, he leaned over and put his hand on the forearm of the disabled centurion as if searching for something. He ran his finger over a one and a half inch slit that housed a retractable blade, something he had faced once before, a long time ago. He turned towards his son. "Commander, I would like a word with you and the president in private."

**Deck 14 – Galactica's Detention Center**

The two larger cells constructed to first hold Sharon Valerii, and now D'Anna Biers were separated from each other. There was no way for either humanoid Cylon to make any kind of contact with each other. Valerii's cell was empty, having been removed and transported to Pegasus hours earlier on the orders of Admiral Adama left only D'Anna in the detention center. D'Anna was surprised when Matthew Lensherr walked past the guard's checkpoint with a small covered tray. The Marine guard, reluctant to even get to his feet for the _Cylon lover, _was even more annoyed when Lensherr snapped his fingers, gesturing him to open the sliding panel used to serve prisoners their meals. The tall, lanky marine unlocked the small door, and slid it back without saying a word. He had already inspected the tray and two other items closely before returning them to the viper pilot.

"You may return to your post, corporal!" said Lensherr with a tone of authority. When the guard was back at his desk, Matt turned towards D'Anna and smiled. "Good afternoon lass."

"Matthew, you bring light to such a dark and dismal place." said D'Anna as she slipped her fingertips through the small, rectangular opening. Matt placed his own fingertips on hers, feeling her warmth. "Is everything alright?" The terms of Lensherr's visitation access were simple, no entry into the cell itself, and absolutely no information given on the fleet's status, or any military matters. Lensherr's pause signaled to D'Anna that something was going on, but no further information would be forthcoming.

"Yes, all is well. I just got off rotation and thought I'd bring you a few items." He uncovered the tray, resulting in a large smile from D'Anna.

"Mushies?" asked D'Anna. "How in twelve worlds did you come into possession of those?"

"There's a corporal in the mess hall that grew up in a baker's household prior to enlisting. If he has the right ingredients he can bake just about anything. Lad owed me a favor."

"Otherwise he would never bake mushies for a _skin job?" _replied the Cylon taking the small tray and placing it on a small table that was firmly bolted to the floor.

"Somethin like that." laughed Matt. "And don't worry, I tried one before coming here...not dead yet!" He then took the two magazines that he had with him, and slid them through the rectangular opening as well. "I had to really put on the charm for the old man for him to okay those magazines. Your old cameraman Bell, had a section published with some excellent photos taken throughout the fleet that may be of interest. The old man deems these two magazines trash anyway, and after determining them not to be a security risk, allowed me to give them to you." na.

"Ah Bell... I miss that curly headed young lad. He was a good partner while I worked for fleet news." replied D'Anna.

"Worked?" repeated Matt with an arched eyebrow.

"You know what I mean, love." said D'Anna with a wink. "Mushies...I can't explain why I love these things so much." she said taking a bite. "So, do you have any idea what Zeus has in store for me?"

"Admiral Adama does _not_ confide wit his pilots on day to day operations, lass. Especially me...the toaster lovin kind."

"They don't trust you?"

"I think the old man does, but as far as anyone else...yuir guess is as good as mine."

"Would you believe me if I said I was sorry for getting you into this mess?" asked D'Anna batting her eyelashes playfully.

"Would you actually mean it?" D'Anna could see that Matt was actually serious about the question.

"Honestly? Yes, I do mean it." she replied sitting down cross legged before him. Matt shrugged his shoulders and did the same. "Humans 'made' the Cylons. There is no argument as to who came first. We cleaned your homes, cooked your food, babysat your children and did all the dangerous and dirty work that humanity no longer wanted to do, or felt they were above doing. As a species, you failed to see what was evolving right in front of you until the dam broke right on top of your thick fraking skulls." Out of the corner of his eye, Matt could see the security camera, and small red light indicating that both visual and audio were actively being monitored.

"Out of the twelve models of humanoid Cylons, not all of them hate every fiber of your being. Several models, including my own actually believe that human and Cylon can coexist peacefully. Not every model of every line is in agreement however, which only serves to reinforce the belief in models like Cavil and Doral, that humanity is dangerous, and a contaminent to Cylon survival and evolution."

"Wait, I'm fairly certain I know six of your twelve models, but what about the other six?" interrupted Matt. D'Anna laughed aloud.

"I've been interrogated day and night by that bitch Hadrain, and shifty eyed little fraker Nelson for that very answer, what makes you think I have that answer now... even for you my love?"

"How can you not know?"

"It isn't like we meet on the third monday of every moth for a meeting of the Cylons, Matthew. I've always known that there were twelve separate models of humanoid Cylon, but only ever saw the ones you know about. To inquire about the unseen models has always been forbidden."

"Forbidden by whom?" pressed Matt. D'Anna cocked her head ever so slightly as if just being asked that question for the very first time. She remained silent for a few seconds before answering.

"That's a damned good question, one I've never thought to ask myself. It really had never been brought up before, it just _was_. If I had to really think about it I would say that Cavil's line had always taken the vocal stand of the remaining six being a topic off limits."

"And as _machines_ you just accepted that?" asked Matt.

"_Action Stations...action stations...set condition two throughout the ship!" _The klaxon sounded, and Felix Gaeta's voice filled the room from the public address system mounted at the ceiling.

"Are we being attacked?" asked D'Anna.

"No, if we were at condition one an attack would be under way or imminent. Condition two merely puts the ship on alert that a threat is probable, but not present. Crew readiness is somewhat more relaxed than on a full war footing." explained Lensherr. "I have to report to the flight deck, I'll get back to see you as soon as I can." Hanging up the receiver, Matt stood and started to walk away when he stopped, turning around he walked back to the phone and picked it up. When D'Anna put the receiver to her ear he smiled and said "_I love you!"_

**Pilot's Ready Room – Galactica**

By the time Lensherr entered the ready room, Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach was already standing behind the podium. He called the room to attention as Matt entered. With Apollo now the commander of Pegasus, and Starbuck its CAG, Matt Lensherr resumed his position as commander of Galactica's Air group. Horlach was his first choice for assistant CAG. Horlach handed Lensherr a clipboard that contained the information related to Galactica's current state of action stations. Matt quickly scanned the report, and handed the clipboard back to Peacemaker.

"At ease people." said Matt taking his place behind the podium, Horlach stood off to his left. "As you know we've been placed at condition two for the time being. Admiral Adama has transferred his flag temporarily to _Pegasus _for a search and rescue mission of the missing raptor that was recently assigned to a civillian science team. What makes this mission important enough for the old man to personally take part in is unknown to me, and the executive officer hasn't deemed in necessary at this time to provide further information. So... in the meantime, with the Pegasus away on the SAR, the fleet is back down to one Battlestar for protection. Patrols have picked up intermittent dradis hits throughout this quadrant, so we're going to double up the CAP, and assign a Raptor to each patrol."

"Captain Lensherr!" The voice belonged to Lieutenant Emrick Sloane III, a Tauron who went by the call sign _Mars._

"Yes lieutenant?"

"These intermittent dradis hits...do we know for a fact if they're Cylons?"

"Negative lad. Long range scans were never able to get a lock on em, and by the time the CAP was in position to close on their last known location they were gone. We're gonna hold our current position until the return o' the Pegasus, and then it'll be up to the old man where we go next."

"To continue on the way to Earth?" queried Sloane. Matt wasn't sure how to answer that, he knew about the newly discovered planet, and the decision to remain close by while the science teams secretly explored it for suitability for colonization, or materials. A very select group of military officers and civilians knew of its existence, all having agreed to keep that information confidential for the time being.

"I'd imagine so." replied Matt trying to switch topics. "Now, Silver Spar squadron has the first CAP after this rotation, viper 1177 has been taken offline to replace the port KEW, so viper 2201 will be put in service."

"Wasn't that viper the last to come off of Pegasus' on-board viper production facility?" asked Brendan "Hot Dog" Costanza.

"You'd be correct, laddie. Thanks to Pegasus, the Galactica is almost at three quarters her full viper strength. We've got about a dozen or so Mk. II's still running front line, with another ten assigned to Omega squadron." Omega squadron was Galactica's reserve viper squadron, the oldest Mk. II vipers still combat ready were placed there with two past-their-prime raptors. "Just don't be getting yuir greedy little self too excited about snagging one of them Hot Dog, I do believe there is still three or four pilots senior to you waitin on one o' the newer vipers. Besides... the Mk. II you've got is pretty well broken in, is she not? Newer ain't exactly better, lad."

"These new vipers may not be rolling off the assembly line of Caprica's viper production facility outside of Thanatos Air Base, but I'll take any one of Pegasus' new birds over Tyrol's patch jobs any day of the week." said Costanza to nods of agreement amongst his fellow viper pilots in the ready room.

"I hear ya laddie, but don't be steppin on Tyrol's balls...he and his knuckle-draggers have done a damned good job keepin the ole girl's air wing together for this long. Those Mk II's saved this ship's arse, and every single ship in this fleet countless times over, and don't ye forget it." chastised Matt good naturedly. With several other matters addressed, Matt dismissed Silver Spar squadron from the ready room. Blue, Red Aces, and the Fighting Dragons of Picon squadrons would be addressed shortly thereafter. Soon Matt and Jon Horlach were the only two men still in the room. Horlach dropped down into one of the seats just vacated by the pilots.

"You're fitting back into your old role quiet easily, Heph." observed Horlach.

"To be perfectly honest wit ya Jon, I wish Timezone was here standing behind this podium. Yuir old man had a set o' brass ones." Jon smiled and nodded. His father had been Matt's Academy flight instructor, and he missed him greatly.

"He'd be proud of how you turned out, Matt."

"Well let's not be under no illusions, if it weren't for the attack on the Colonies, killing off half o' Galactica's seasoned pilots, there'd be no fraken way I'd be standin up here as CAG." replied Matt. "But thanks for the compliment, Peacemaker...I appreciate it, and I have no doubt he'd be proud of you too."

"Well like you said, Pegasus' on board viper production facility has cranked out a decent amount of vipers, but let's be honest...Caprican quality they aren't!"

"I'll grant ye that, but this old bucket had no means to build a viper in any real efficient way. Tyrol and his deck gang did a great fraken job on the Blackbird, but that was by scratch, with scavenged parts. Pegasus had a full stockroom of viper components while at Scorpion Shipyards, and the last haul we took in from that Cylon outpost yielded enough raw material to create the fuselages. Whatever we're missing, we've been able to adapt, improvise and overcome."

"Vipers we have, pilots are another story." added Jon.

"We've put some real quality nuggets through viper training, granted many o' them may have washed out under a _real_ Colonial flight academy, but you know just as well as I do that beggars can't be too fraken choosy." Jon looked over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone.

"Any word on the research teams?" Matt wasn't very surprised that Peacemaker knew about the planet, very little got past the Libran police officer turned viper pilot.

"Ye know that's classified, my friend." said Matt. "However, I'm not gonna insult yuir intelligence by denying any knowledge of it. The teams are still out there, it's not a very big planet, but from what I gather there is a decent possibility of it sustainin life. Pegasus detailed six raptors to the expedition, and that's about all I know, even the CAG operates on a need-to-know basis."

"I'm sure. So, how's the Cylon?"

"She's got a name." pointed out Matt.

"Not to me, not at this time." replied Jon a little more bluntly than he wished he had. Matt fully understood, he and Jon had become very close friends since the arrival of the Pegasus into the fleet. Matt knew that Jon hated the Cylons, blamed them for the death of his family, his world.

"D'Anna is holding up fine." replied Matt, not going into further detail.

"Look Heph, I'm your friend...always will be, but you know what "she" is, and you know that just about every viper pilot in your air wing would do anything to take a shot at her. The loud grumblings about your relationship with it has dropped down to muted whispers, but the anger is still there, please watch your back." Matt knew his friend meant well, and held no ill will for his friend's view on Cylons in general, and D'Anna in particular.

"Thanks Peace, I appreciate yuir candor. I love D'Anna, I know she isn't human, and I know the role her people played in the near-extinction of the human race, but she's _different_, you'll see." The two sat in silence for a moment before Matt spoke up. "Listen, I'm putting Mars and Photon out on CAP-alpha, Stingray and Hot Dog on CAP-beta, Roadkill and Scratchy on CAP-charlie. You're giving the briefing to Red Aces squadron, and I'll let you assign CAP delta through foxtrot as you see fit. Got anything else ye wanna run be me?"

Jon stood up and replied in the negative.

"Good hunting Peacemaker!"

Chapter 68.


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68.

**Cylon Basestar – Qudrant Zulu 114**

This particular Basestar had been trailing the human fleet at a safe distance for weeks, with the destruction of their resurrection ship, the Cylons were forced to alter their strategy when dealing with the Galactica and her defenders. The loss of its ability to resurrect, due to the combined onslaught of Pegasus and Galactica forced the Cylons to change their attack tactics from all out direct frontal assaults on the Fleet _en masse_ to more cautious hit-and-run tactics that minimized their losses.

"Simon, have we received any news from the Hub regarding a replacement resurrection ship?" asked Cavil.

"Not as of this time." he replied.

"Well that's just unacceptable." fumed Cavil. "This, this...vermin is allowed to continue their contaminated trek across the cosmos, and we're expected to just allow them to go on their merry way?"

"You always have the option of _not_ chasing them!" This comment drew a guffaw from the number one series humanoid Cylon. He slowly turned towards the offending voice.

"You know Three, if I didn't know better, I would think you were going soft." said Cavil walking to within inches of the taller female Cylon, his voice cold and piercing.

"That's the concern about you number ones..._you don't know better!_" This humanoid Cylon was the third series created, and she was not about to be intimidated by Cavil or any other of her brethren. Cocking her head slightly to the side she peered down at the smaller man before her. "Perhaps chasing down these pathetic humans are a waste of valuable time, time that could be spent better elsewhere in the cosmos."

"Careful...D'Anna, the toes you step on today may be connected to the ass you have to kiss tomorrow." warned Cavil standing his ground.

"Why Cavil, that's a very _human_ response. Careful, one of your own may move to have you _boxed_ for such behavior."

"I fail to understand you, Three. Your model has always been different, more individual, but I never underestimated your capability to understand why we had to put the mad dog of humanity down. To be honest, it concerns me." continued Cavil, ignoring her taunts.

"What you do or don't understand in inconsequential Cavil, as Cylons we are superior to the human being on almost all levels, our intellect outstrips theirs like the human to the insect, yet we as a species run the risk of a very human trait."

"Oh you have my full attention now!" said Cavil sarcastically, gesturing with his hands to continue before the other humanoid Cylons in the Basestar's command and control room. "_Please,_ share the brilliant fruits of your cerebellum, or was that silica pathways, I forget sometimes."

"Hubris."

"_Hubris?!" _shot back Cavil loudly. _"Hubris?!_ I hate to break it to you Three, but we're _machines! _We are not capable of excessive pride or arrogance. We are _perfection_ in the grand scheme of this universe, our only flaw is the ridiculous vessel in which our brains have been housed. You see pride, I see the recognition of reality. Something you had better start seeing sooner rather than later!" warned Cavil.

"_Or what?" _asked D'Anna moving closer towards Cavil, coming to her full height.

"Is this necessary?" interrupted another humanoid Cylon, this time a Six model with auburn hair.

"This is the problem when machines think they're human." replied Cavil with disgust, never taking his eyes off of D'Anna's. "You are a machine, you are superior to the vermin we pursue...start accepting your position in the food chain Three, otherwise people may...misinterpret your actions, and when that happens, one never knows what can result from it."

"Then let me be absolutely clear, Cavil. I have no misconception of where I stand in regard to humanity, _or Cylon_. I would strongly recommend you worry about yourself, and don't presume to act as if you are somehow superior to the rest of us here, because one never knows what can result from _that!_" challenged D'Anna using thoroughly pronounced wording. The two stood silently, eyes locked upon the other.

"Has anyone attempted to excogitate a possible justification for the human fleet's current course, or lack of?" asked Simon. Cavil turned towards him, a look of annoyance plastered across his face.

"What do you mean, _or lack of?_"

"The fleet has remained in this star system for some time now. They occasionally make jumps to other quadrants, but never leave entirely, it didn't take very long to discover that their jumps are along a not-so-random vector." replied Simon with a slight edge of irritation in his voice, as if the others should have discovered this on their own already.

"What's out here that would keep them from leaving entirely?" inquired Leoben.

"I think I may just have an answer for that." interrupted an Eight. "One of our raider patrols have returned from a reconnaissance flight. Ultra long range dradis sweeps reveal only one Battlestar within the fleet."

"Which one?" asked Cavil.

"Galactica."

"That geriatric piece of rusting felgercarb..." sneered Cavil. "How long has the Mercury class Battlestar been away, were they able to ascertain that?"

The Eight walked over to a vertical data stream, sliding her slender fingers along the cascading flow as if playing a delicate string instrument. The bio-mechanical raiders had already transmitted their data directly to their mother ship where the Hybrid analyzed the data at incredible speed, far faster than any computer aboard any colonial ship could have. "The raiders made intermittent flash jumps along the outer most perimeter of the fleet, if you see...here" she gestured along a certain flow, "you will see the _Pegasus _taking a rear-guard position." Moving her fingertips slightly down and to the left she continued to speak. "In this frame you will see that _Pegasus_ is no longer in position, nor is it anywhere within the fleet. The ship has been gone for two days now."

"I would suggest we recall our remaining patrols immediately, and prepare an attack." said Doral.

"I agree," concurred Cavil. "With the Pegasus away, the fleet has only Galactica to protect it, and we already have determined that Galactica's air wing is not only significantly smaller, but filled with obsolete Mk. II vipers, we won't get a better shot at the humans."

"I find it interesting that your incredibly superior brain has forgotten that those obsolete Mk. II vipers have done an incredible job at sending thousands of our raiders to their deaths since their escape from the colonies." observed D'Anna.

"Look Three, I grow weary of fencing with you. Do feel free to skip off and go do whatever it is you do like a good little machine, leave combat to the warriors." replied Cavil dismissively.

"Perhaps you'd care to show us what kind of warrior you are by _leading_ the charge in one of the Heavy Raiders?" Cavil silently turned his back to her and walked up to the data stream where two Simons and the Doral were standing. Leoben and the lone Eight model focused their attention on the vertical data stream, sorting through the massive amounts of intelligence the raider patrol transmitted.

"Yes...I didn't think so." replied D'Anna sarcastically. She turned and walked towards the exit door of the command and control center, before exiting she let loose with one last verbal sting towards Cavil. "Try not to break a hip, oh mighty warrior!"

**Port Flight Pod Launch Tubes – Galactica**

Captain Aaron Kelly took one last look at the display screen before him, all systems indicated green. Looking out the observation window, he nodded to Captain Jon Horlach. "Peacemaker this is Shooter, Maglock secure, initiate launch sequence."

"_Roger that, Shooter...all green."_ replied Horlach over the comline as he snapped off a salute.

"Good hunting!" He then depresses the launch button and a magnetic catapult hurls the Viper out at speeds that cause the pilot to be slammed back into his seat. The one hundred and seventy foot trip down the launch tube was over in a flash as Peacemaker's Mk. VII viper exploded into space. Clearing Galactica, he nosed his viper towards his assigned CAP as his wing-man formed up beside him. Lieutenant Mick "Roguepope" Rogue brought his own Mk. VII viper in tight. Today they were flying the Combat Air Patrol designated Epsilon, they were backed up by Raptor 2. CAP – Foxtrot was being flown by two other members of the Red Aces squadron; Lt. Paul "Crixus" Nix and Lt. Kara "Destiny" Fan, they were backed up by Raptor 6, piloted by Racetrack and Skulls.

"Roguepope, Peacemaker...I'm going to swing aft of the _Prometheus,_ get us along the perimeter of our security envelope...over."

"_Peacemaker, Roguepope...message received. Raptor 2 did you receive...over?"_

"_Raptor 2 receives...aft of Prometheus...over." _The two vipers and their raptor picket pushed their way to the furthest reaches of the fleet to begin their patrol. Larger chunks of space rock provided excellent cover for raiders, but couldn't begin to hide anything near the size of a Cylon capital ship. That would be the place to hide thought Horlach, if he was stalking the enemy. He had flown many a patrol in his time since getting rescued by Pegasus, and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, trouble was afoot.

"_Whadaya sniffin, bossman?"_ called out Rogue over the comline.

"Nothing I can put my finger on Rogue, just that feeling." replied Horlach, scanning the inky black void before him. His targeting computer had each piece of space rock sized and nothing out of the ordinary stood out. Jon used his maneuvering thrusters to slow his craft, he then dove into the thick of the floating asteroid field to put mark one eyeballs to work. "Raptor 2, Peacemaker...stay outside the field, no sense in denting up your ship...over."

"_Peacemaker, Raptor 2 receives...over." _The fifty ton workhorse of the colonial fleet was acting as a dradis picket, the ECO was on a back to back CAP, something that normally would not be allowed under normal circumstances. His attention was focused on unscrewing the cap on a thermos bottle filled with hot coffee, and not his dradis screen. Intermittent hits flashed across his screen, glancing over casually he dismissed them as the floating space debris.

Jon Horlach was a police officer on Libran before the assault on the colonies, his father was a lead instructor to many a viper pilot, many of them now dead, sitting ducks for the Cylons in their crippled star fighters once the Cylons activated their virus that shut down the command navigation program in all colonial ships. He had learned how to be a viper pilot aboard the Pegasus, but he had his father's gift at the stick. Horlach's viper was an extension of his physical being, feeling completely at ease in the cockpit, and strangely enough, in battle. Senior Flight Instructor Colonel Raol "Timezone" Horlach would have been very proud of his son had he lived. The asteroids zipped past him as he scanned each rock, knowing that it would be very difficult for a dradis sweep to pick up an enemy fighter in this mess. The first sign of trouble came when the 30mm Kinetic Energy Weapon, or KEW attached to his vertical stabilizer was violently blown off by 30mm rounds fired by the Cylon Raider that just detached itself from a passing asteroid.

"_Frak! Bandits in the field...bandits in the field!" _yelled Horlach into his comline. Raptor 2's ECO quickly tossed his thermos aside, knowing that his more advanced scans should have picked up the raider long before it fired on Red Ace's squadron leader. Horlach knew that the asteroid field was not an optimal spot for a dogfight, he increased speed and raced for the clearing, the raider now hot on his tail. Several ricochets bounced off his fuselage as he rolled and banked his viper trying to evade the bio-mechanical monstrosity. _"Roguepope, Peacemaker...I'm totally defensive!"_

"Peacemaker, Roguepope...set it up for me, and I'll take it out... over." replied Rogue, he was already clear of the debris field and doing his best to track Peacemaker's transponder. He was almost paralleling him when a brilliant flash over his left shoulder caught his attention. The dradis warning screamed loudly in his ear as a Cylon Basestar jumped almost on top of his position. Within seconds, multiple dradis contacts filled his screen as the Basestar launched its raider force. _"Oh frak me...we've got company boss, lotsa company!"_

Raptor 2 was immediately engulfed in raiders, they streaked by coming within yards of the lone raptor who was doing its best to get into a less concentrated location. The pilot was able to get off one Spectra Six missile before getting brutally cut down by raider fire. It exploded, killing both crew-

members.

"Peacemaker, we lost the raptor...repeat...we lost the raptor, whats your status?"

"_Still defensive, Mick... a little fraken help if you don't mind...over."_

**Combat Information Center – Galactica**

"One Baseship only, colonel!" confirmed Gaeta once the initial dradis sweep detected the enemy warship on the far side of the fleet. "We just lost Raptor 2...IFF off the scope." Communications officer Dualla confirmed Raptor 2's destruction while monitoring the com chatter between Peacemaker and Roguepope.

"Launch the alert vipers, and redirect CAP Foxtrot to assist Epsilon immediately!" ordered Tigh. "Dee, order the fleet to jump to emergency coordinates." Saul Tigh was a veteran of many Cylon battles, and while he had no doubts about his command abilities during battle, he wished Pegasus was in this fight, and Adama calling the shots. The dradis monitor suspended above the plotting table indicated civilian ships jumping away at too slow of a pace.

"Godsdamned civilian ships, they move like old people frak! Dee, get on the horn with the remaining ship captains and tell them to move their asses!" shouted Tigh, growing frustrated with the pace of the jump.

"Colonel, _Gemenon Traveler_ reporting FTL failure, _Kimba Huta_ has initiated respooling twice now!" informed Dualla.

"Looks like we're gonna have to slug it out here." announced the executive officer. "Dee, inform the _Striker_ and _Prometheus_ that they will be the fleet's only protection at the emergency jump coordinates until we deal with this Basestar. _Launch all remaining squadrons!_" Too many jumps had strained many of the older ships of Galactica's civilian fleet, some never intended for prolonged space flight, or the amount of faster than light jumps required of them. FTL drives were checked every twelve hours to ensure functionality on every ship. Apparently some ships were not as diligent than others, something that would be addressed in time. Galactica had four viper active viper squadrons, and one reserve squadron of aging Mk. II's, The squadrons were designated _Fighting Dragons of Picon, Blue, Red Aces_ and _Silver Spar_. The reserve squadron was designated _Omega_.

With the exception of Omega squadron, all viper squadrons took to space to support the alert vipers and two combat air patrols now engaged with the Cylons. In the CIC, the overhead lights switched over to red indicating they were at action stations. Saul Tigh was studying the dradis monitor above him, and wondered why there was only one Basestar. Not even smaller support ships were on station, this Cylon warship was completely alone, not that that fact made the Basestar any less of a threat. While Colonial Battlestars were far more heavily armored, a Cylon Basestar was armed to the teeth with four times the amount of fighters, more than enough to make up for the lack of shielding. A Basestar is capable of launching conventional or nuclear missiles from over 220 turret launchers mounted throughout the arms and central axis that pivot to allow the Basestar to fire in any direction.

"Helm, bring us about, put us between the fleet and enemy Basestar." ordered Tigh. "Weapons, bring gun batteries Alpha through Delta to bear." When Galactica was first commissioned, she had close to forty heavy gun batteries, twenty four of them mounted on her dorsal side, sixteen on the ventral hull. Of those twenty four, eight were mounted on the bow and are thus able to fire directly forwards. Armed to the teeth, Galactica was one of the most feared Colonial Battlestars during the Cylon war. After the armistice was declared, Warstars and Battlestars were mothballed, scrapped or made less armed. Galactica currently possessed eight of her former twenty four heavy gun batteries. Nuclear tipped missiles were far more efficient, took up less room, and required less maintenance, or so the admiralty believed.

"Peacemaker, Hephaustus... the Calvary is two minutes out at full turbos...over."

"_Roger that Hephaestus... Roguepope and I trying unsuccessfully to stay on the offensive...over." _Matt suppressed a chuckle, the thought of two vipers trying to go offensive against the entire complement of a Basestar's raider wing meant only one thing, Peacemaker had been spending far too much time hanging out with Starbuck. Crixus and Destiny from CAP Foxtrot had arrived on station to take some of the heat off of CAP Epsilon, and they too were soon up to their eyeballs in attacking raiders. Lt. Paul "Crixus" Nix blasted what constituted the raider's head clean off a passing enemy fighter, sending the aft section of the attack craft spiraling into a second raider. With the wall of enemy fighters so thick, the domino effect resulted in at least half a dozen "kills."

"_Hade's hole...did anyone see that!"_ cried out Nix over the comline. _"I am totally counting that collateral damage on my kill card." _

Lt. Kara "Destiny" Fan had been a member of Pegasus' air-wing where counting kills were mandatory for crew morale, she quickly keyed up her transmitter. "Damn straight you'd better Crixus...every kill is one less that's gonna fry your ass some other day!" replied Destiny.

"_Peacemaker, Roguepope... new contacts bearing 040 carom 098...over."_

"Roguepope, Peacemaker...that should be the alert vipers, with the rest of the air-wing not too far behind them. About fraken time...over."

The Cylon Basestar had ignored the skirmish between its raiders and the much smaller Colonial forces, its course was set to plunge into the heart of the human fleet where it could do the most damage. They would arrive at their desired position shortly before the Galactica would be finished with its repositioning to intercept.

**Command and Control – Cylon Baseship**

"Several of the human ships are experiencing FTL failure." reported Doral.

"Well if I believed in luck, then I would say that the 'luck of the Gods' are upon us." quipped Cavil. "However, seeing as how I am a logical being and there is no such thing as luck I will chalk it up to expected system failures aboard spacecraft having no business this far out in space. Lock onto the nearest disabled ship and open fire." The massive Cylon capital ship launched a series of missiles, their advanced technology easily locking onto the _Kimba Huta_ from almost twice the range of a Colonial targeting lock.

**Combat Information Center - Galactica**

"Incoming ordinance! They're targeting _Kimba Huta _colonel!" warned Gaeta. Tigh studied the dradis monitor intently, then snapped out commands.

"Mr. Gaeta, direct Raptors 4 and 7 to intercept incoming Cylon missiles, they can detonate their Spectra Sixes at close range to interdict." As tactical officer, Felix Gaeta was responsible for Monitoring the ship's DRADIS system in addition to:

Managing the ship's offensive and defensive weapons systems.

Monitoring tactical and navigational computer systems.

Overseeing the ship's FTL systems and plotting jumps, including providing emergency jump coordinates to other ships in the fleet.

Supporting the commanding and executive officer in the performance of their duties.

Gaeta quickly typed in the commands on his keyboard and transmitted. He was an incredibly fast typer, as was required for a tactical officer, and it was doubtful that an audio transmission would have been delivered any quicker. Also, audio transmissions were notoriously distorted, especially during combat when pilots were keying over each other's transmissions during the heat of battle. Within moments, the two Raptors redeployed to intercept the incoming missiles. It was a tribute to the ECO who quickly reprogrammed their Spectra Six missiles to launch hot and detonate at short range in order for the explosive spiderweb-like tendrils to form. Once the Cylon missiles struck the web, they would be blown apart. The cold storage vessel _Kimba Huta _was spared immediate destruction thanks to the quick reaction time of the two Raptors, but by now the Basestar started to fire at multiple targets, some whom had escaped at the last second by jumping away.


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter 69.

Air to air missiles and 30mm rounds filled the skies around the rapidly disappearing fleet as Raider and Vipers engaged each other. With Galactica's entire air-wing in the battle, the fleet had better survival chances. The aging Jupiter-class Battlestar was now brought in close to the lone Cylon Basestar, and her dorsal-side batteries started to pummel the lightly shielded enemy warship. However, the Cylon ship was far from defenseless. It rained countless missiles down upon the fleet's lone protector, punishment that could be felt all the way to the center of the ship in the Combat Information Center. A missile hit to one of the dorsal batteries resulted in Tigh being thrown forward against the plotting table.

"_Direct hit on the Delta battery!" _yelled Gaeta, struggling to remain in his seat.

"Status?" asked Tigh.

"Damage control teams are en route." The blast had been catastrophic, igniting the magazines directly beneath the heavily shielded battery. With the Basestar up close and personal, they hit the battery just right. The personnel manning the Delta gun battery were killed immediately, vaporized by the explosion. Twelve crew members from surrounding decks were killed, with more than two dozen minor to moderately injured.

"Fleet Status, Mr. Gaeta?" barked Tigh.

"Down to three ships, colonel."

"Helm, get us beneath that Basestar, I want all batteries brought to bear. Dee, signal the vipers to be prepared to land immediately, once that last civilian ship is gone I want them recalled RFN!" The Galactica continued to shudder under the missile onslaught, Saul Tigh hoped to position his ship directly beneath the Baseship in order to limit their reach.

Lieutenant Becky "Vixon" Antilles from the Fighting Dragons of Picon squadron angled her Mk VII viper between Galactica and the Baseship, Ghostrider and Wizard on her six. She was attempting to target the missile launchers along the arm of the Y-shaped hull of the Cylon warship.

"Ghostrider, Vixon...I'm gonna start my run from the end and make my way into the center axis...over."

"_Vixon, Ghostrider... Wizard and I are on your six...light em up baby!" _Lieutenant Dylan "Ghostrider" Wolfe, another member of the Dragons brought his own viper in tight, he had roughly four hundred 30mm rounds left before he was empty. Vixon had never been this close to a Basestar before, she usually had swarms of raiders to contend with, and the Basestar was often out of range. She was awed by the sheer size of the vessel, starting to have doubts about the sanity of her plan. _Frak it_ she thought, even if she took out one or two missile launchers it was one or two less missiles to inflict damage on the civilian fleet, or her Battlestar. She flew less than a dozen feet over the surface of the Y-shaped hull, firing her KEWS. The 30mm rounds did minimal damage, but the missiles she carried on the rails under her wings packed a serious punch. Unfortunately, due to weight considerations in combat, she carried only four. Very few vipers carried missiles, maybe less than a dozen were able to be armed before Colonel Tigh ordered all squadrons to be launched immediately. One missile struck the interior of the launch tube and exploded at the same moment a Cylon missile was leaving the tube, detonating the larger missile, the explosion was massive, and Vixon's viper was nearly blown apart from the shock wave that resulted. Numerous system failures were being identified by her on board computer, and she would be unable to stay in the fight. The damage to the Baseship's arm was significant, but would be repaired in time.

"_Ghostrider, Vixon...Kews are not overly effective, try to sink your missiles straight down the launcher openings if at all possible... I can't stay in the fight, systems are starting to shut down, will be lucky if I make it back to the Bucket in one piece...over."_

"Roger that Vix...get your ass outta here, we'll take it from here." replied Wolfe. Trying to straph the Basestar was risky, the engagement zone that was generated by Galactica's over 514 Kinetic Energy Weapons, commonly known as point defense, or anti aircraft turrets had thrown up a murderous amount of flak into the skies immediately around Galactica. Viper pilots were trained to remain outside of the engagement zone while in combat, but with the fight this close and personal, many took their chances and strayed into the flak field in order to straph the Baseship or pursue enemy fighters.

**Combat Information Center**

"Last civilian ship away, colonel." informed Gaeta.

"Dee, recall the fighters...combat landings sure as hell authorized!" barked Tigh. His ship, correction...Bill Adama's ship was taking a pounding, and he wanted out of there right fraking now. He was amazed that the Cylon capital ship was still in the fight, either the old girl was losing her punch, or the Cylons were sending better armored ships after them. Either way, this fight was about ready to be over, and the Baseship taken off the board. "Weapons...have they finished upgrading that _Picon Penetrator_ yet?"

"Yes sir! It's already been loaded into tube seven." replied the weapons officer. The conventional warhead had been replaced with one twenty-kiloton nuclear warhead, more then enough to destroy the Baseship, especially when mounted on a _Picon Penetrator_ missile that will punch through the outer shielding of the ship, burrow its way deep through the decks and finally detonate, destroying the Cylon warship from within. Viper squadrons maniacally made their way to the safety of the landing bay, point defense turrets lining the route to the opening of the cavernous bays ignored the ships broadcasting Colonial IFF's and obliterated any broadcasting Cylon IFF's. Several minutes pass as the vipers safely land within the confines of the Galactica, less than a dozen vipers were lost in the offensive, and the ship was ready to jump away.

"Mr. Gaeta, retract the pods and start the countdown to jump away, weapons...stand by to fire." ordered Tigh.

Felix Gaeta already had the jump coordinates entered into the computer, picking up the FTL key, he inserted it and began his countdown. "Jumping in ten...nine..."

"Weapons...fire the missile at four seconds to jump!" As Gaeta hit the four mark, the weapons officer launched the _Picon Penetrator_ out of launch tube seven, it roared from the dorsal side launch tube and streaked towards the Basestar, striking almost dead center of the center axis. The eighteen foot, fifteen hundred pound nuclear tipped missile had a titanium warhead for increased penetration, cutting a swath through at least eight decks before coming to a complete stop two decks below the command and control center. The fusion reactions between isotopes of hydrogen sealed the fate of the lone Cylon Basestar, far out of range of the nearest resurrection ship, or hub. Just under two hundred humanoid Cylons and close to six hundred centurions were immediately vaporized. Galactica had vanished seconds before detonation, but the demise of the Cylon ship did not go unnoticed, a small Cylon scout ship had belatedly returned to its home base, only to find it gone in a violent nuclear death.

**Emergency Jump Coordinates**

Galactica emerged from her faster-than-light jump high above the fleet, the helmsman brought the ship into its normal position, and damage control teams started their assignments. Matthew Lensherr was out of his cockpit quickly once his viper was brought below deck into the hanger. He lost a total of ten vipers in the fight, most of them were nuggets who just didn't have the experience that could have prolonged their lives. He would soon be ordering extra flight simulator sessions for every pilot regardless of rank or experience. Tylium was to be conserved at all costs, and although he was sure he could make his case to the admiral for live combat training, Pegasus had two of the most advanced viper combat simulators ever built Graystone Technologies. Admiral Cain, shortly after discovering Galactica and the fleet, had ordered one of the simulators disassembled, and transferred to Galactica for her own pilots to utilize and be brought up to the 'standards of a _Pegasus viper pilot_."

Then- Commander of the Air Group, Lee Adama, was furious at the implication that Galactica's pilots were somehow inferior to those of the Pegasus had filed an objection with Commander Adama, and then challenged Pegasus CAG to a combat challenge between squadrons when he felt that his father didn't vocalize his own anger at the perceived slight in the way that Lee felt he should have. Admiral Cain, realizing that Galactica's pilots were highly offended by her comment, surprised everyone by making a personal appearance in "pilot's country" aboard Galactica to personally apologize if her comments were taken out of context. That would be the one and only apology that would ever escape her lips, as relations between William Adama and herself would soon become strained to the point where each of them conspired to murder the other.

After each and every pilot finished their post flight checklist, every pilot assigned to every squadron ( with the exception of the CAP ) were present in Hanger Bay Alpha as Lensherr reverently removed the placard bearing the names of the dead pilots from the status board. Senior Chief Petty Officer Galen Tyrol had rolled out the still that he had created on a mechanic's dolly. As a self-taught distiller, Tyrol took the time to experiment and learn the craft, and that virtually any fruit or grain ( which were of extremely high demand due to the limited number throughout the fleet ), can be fermented and distilled into an alcoholic beverage of better than average quality. Close to ten of his deck gang held platters of empty shot glasses, ( borrowed from the officer's rec room for the occasion ) and Tyrol filled a finger's worth of amber liquid into each glass, which were then handed out to all the pilots. After a short toast to their departed comrades, pilot and deck gang members threw back the amber contents. Sadly this would happen again, and again as the fleet's defenders flew out against Cylon attacks.

Within days of the fleet jumping to the new standby coordinates, the Pegasus had returned from her mission, nursing her own combat wounds. Admiral Adama had transferred his flag back to Galactica, and was soon brought up to speed on the fleet's encounter with the Cylons. Adama in turn would brief his executive officer on his own mission, and the death of Pegasus' own executive officer aboard the Guardian Baseship.

**Colonial One – One week later**

"Madam President, we may have a problem." informed Tory hesitantly. The former precinct captain of the long dead Federalist Party in Delphi, now chief of staff to Laura Roslin was anxious. The president looked over her glasses and motioned Tory to continue. "Gauis Baltar is _within_ six percentage points!"

Laura removed her glasses and leaned back in her chair exhaling audibly. "How could that little worm _possibly_ be that close to us, Tory?" There was more irritation than genuine anger in her voice.

"He's on talk wireless non-stop, his following amongst the low-brow mouth-breathers is increasing."

Laura raised an eyebrow at the term. "Careful Tory, these _mouth-breathers _cast votes." warned Laura. "Unbelievable... Doctor Gaius Baltar, the man who thought it beneath him to give an interview to the Caprican networks after winning his fourth Magnate prize now embraces the insanity of talk wireless."

"It gets worse." she added. "One of my sources in Tom Zarek's camp informed me that Baltar and Zarek have been discussing _the planet_."

"What?" This got Laura's attention. The newly discovered planet was still a closely guarded secret held from the entire civilian and majority of the military population. The pilots who discovered it were sworn to absolute secrecy, and amongst the two Battlestars, the subject was limited to need-to-know personnel. Planetary expedition to determine suitability had been on-going for almost a month, and was set to wrap up soon. She knew that Baltar had proposed colonization early on, something she was vociferously opposed to. Finding Earth was the fleet's sole hope for survival, Laura Roslin believed this with every fiber of her being. To be discussing this outside of those deemed "need-to-know" was not only forbidden, but extremely dangerous at this juncture.

"Your source...can they be trusted to remain silent on this subject?"

"_Madam President, they are entirely in your court!" _replied Tory.

"Baltar will attempt to use this as a wedge issue, and with emotions running wild, fatigue at being constantly on the run, and limited information, I wouldn't doubt for a moment that he could cause severe damage to our journey to earth if he was to plant the colonization seed in the masses heads. This planet is merely a source for materials to continue the journey."

"Not to Baltar or Zarek it would seem."

"What can we do about this?" Tory shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting about the room as if trying to snatch an answer from the bulkhead walls.

"Madam President, I had taken the liberty to devise a contingency plan for this very possibility." admitted Tory.

"The very possibility that I might lose?" responded Roslin with an edge in her voice.

"I wouldn't be a very good chief of staff if I didn't try to anticipate, and plan for every possibility, madam president." responded Tory somewhat stung by the president's retort.

Laura's contorted face immediately softened as she stood up. She walked around her desk until she was directly in front of her chief of staff. She smiled and took Tory's hands in her own. "I'm sorry Tory, this has been a long campaign...and I'm tired of it, tired of Baltar, and sure as hell tired of the terrorist-turned-quorum delegate Tom Zarek. Tell me about this contingency plan."

"I think it might be better if you just let me run with the ball, madam president. Better to remain insulated in case-"

"In case..._what,_ Tory?" interrupted Roslin. Tory Foster knew that her boss was not going to let her just 'run with the ball.' She realized her mistake as she even mouthed the words.

"Alright madam president," sighed Tory, "two days ago I met with Colonel Tigh when he was aboard on business for the admiral. We were talking about the campaign, which really surprised me because he was the last person I suspected of actually giving a damn about the civilian government. He seemed to relish the fact that Baltar was making significant headway, I'm not sure because of his dislike for the electoral process, or because he wanted to get a rise out of me, not sure either way, but he said something very curious to me."

"Which was?"

"It was almost a warning, that while he found it _amusing_ that Baltar could 'topple the prophesying Pythian princess,' having that godsdamned degenerate mad scientist at the helm of the civilian government was the last thing the fleet needed." A thin smile crept across Laura Roslin's face, she viewed Saul Tigh as a throwback to the old colonial military, where women were best assigned as a yeoman to the commanding officer, or better yet...not allowed aboard a front line combat vessel at all. She knew that that was the closest she'd ever come to an endorsement from Saul Tigh.

"And what _exactly_ did you discuss with colonel Tigh?" Tory inhaled deeply and began.

**The Colony – Cylon Home World**

Positioned in a stable orbit inside a gravitational singularity that contains no event horizon, otherwise known as a naked singularity, sits the home world of the Cylon race. From this location, a massive Cylon armada was 'jumped' directly to the twelve worlds that made up the Twelve Colonies of Kobol to wipe out the human race. The Cylons nearly succeeded, and instead of returning to their home world, the Cylon fleets were dispatched across the cosmos to find and destroy the survivors of humanity that remained. In the command and control center of the colony were several Hybrids, surrounded by numerous control consoles and vertical data streams constantly accessed by various models of the humanoid Cylons.

At this moment, a lone Cylon heavy raider had jumped into one of a very few channels that safely allows a vessel to approach the Colony. It is scanned immediately for recognition codes and allowed entry to the home world.

In the command center, a humanoid Cylon of the Cavil line, or number one series, is found kneeling aside one of the Hybrids. These Hybrids were specifically constructed as living computers that manage the autonomous functions of the basestars. The Hybrid's utterances often appeared to be a mixture of system-wide status reports as well as observations of events in and around the colony, and throughout the Cylon fleet. Cavil often stated they sounded like the rantings of the deranged, and would listen intently, attempting to cull harmony from the chaos. He looked up at a nearby Leoben model. "It would appear that we have unexpected company, brother."

Leoben was the second series of humanoid Cylon created, a prophet of monotheism, Leoben was the first humanoid Cylon discovered by the surviving humans after the holocaust. This Leoben did not believe that the utterances of the Hybrids sounded like deranged rantings, but were speaking the very words of God. Sliding his hands into the datastream, he makes contact with the illuminated base and the thin liquid layer, which activates data ports within the system. The information he seeks is immediate. "The Heavy Raider was assigned to Baseship Alpha 374." said Leoben matter-of-factly.

"_Was assigned?" _parroted Cavil. Leoben's head cocked to one side as the data flowed through him.

"The Baseship was destroyed by the Galactica using a nuclear missile, with no resurrection ship close by, every Cylon suffered permanent death. The heavy raider was on patrol when it returned to the Baseship as it was engaged in battle with the humans. The shock wave was immense, and it jumped away before becoming engulfed itself."

"Will we not be free of this pestilence?" shouted Cavil in anger. "More of our brothers and sisters murdered by these parasites."

"We had no record of Alpha 374's whereabouts." interrupted the Cylon known as Doral. "Nor had we any idea where the Galactica and the fleet were up until now."

"What makes you think they would stay stationary after destroying one of our ships, not knowing when we would arrive to aid our brothers and sisters?" asked Cavil.

"We have a starting point in our search. It is far more than what we had before now, and I believe we should redeploy the fleet to that star system and start our search from there." replied Simon unbidden.

"I concur!" announced Doral, who was immediately supported by Leoben and the lone Eight model in the command center.

"Very well," replied Cavil. "We are all in agreement, the Hybrids will redeploy the fleet that's spread out across the stars in search of that rabble, and we can finally drive a stake through the heart of humanity once and for all."

**Galactica – Three days until election day**

In Admiral Adama's quarters, Saul Tigh sat with President Roslin. The expeditionary teams had completed their mission days before, and had presented the admiral with their report. The four inch thick black binder sat opened on his desk, and over the last two hours, William Adama discussed the findings. He would brief Lee shortly after.

"The planet isn't very remarkable size-wise, the teams report that with the exception of a narrow temperature band along the equator, the planet itself is cold with a harsh terrain. Breathable atmosphere with moderate-sized bodies of fresh water along the equator."

"How large is the habitable section, Bill?"

"Roughly six hundred kilometers long by two hundred and seventy kilometers at its widest point. The average temperature is seventy degrees at the equator, outside of that narrow band is between thirty five and forty eight degrees. Trace amounts of metal ore have been detected and analyzed, however the rugged terrain in which it's located makes mining extremely difficult, not impossible, but difficult. There is wildlife, and the largest animal found was described as a large daggit with tusks. About a dozen different species of birds, and rodents have been cataloged, and marine life exists as well, though relatively small in size, for _all_ wildlife."

"Does the nebula deter harmful radiation?" asked Roslin.

"Surface radiation well within normal limits. The Nebula is quite dense, and dradis as you know is rendered useless. Had racetrack not inadvertently jumped within the upper orbit itself, I doubt she would have ever found the planet."

"A perfect place to hide the fleet while we resupply the fleet with whatever we can scrounge from the planet itself." added Tigh with a grunt.

"That is if we don't colonize this hidden planet." said Roslin.

"Colonize?" repeated Adama. "I understood your position was against colonization, regardless of the expeditionary team's report."

"And I still am, Bill. However, Gaius Baltar holds a different opinion regarding Colonization, and he apparently has been conspiring with Tom Zarek to utilize that possibility as a campaign theme."

"I knew that little ego maniacal egghead was full of felgercarb, but I didn't think he was delusional." grunted Tigh. Adama shot him a look that clearly indicated that he needed to tone it down in front of Roslin.

"As the vice president, and leading scientist he has full access to the planet's discovery, and no doubt will raise a stink about being left out of this briefing, but I have to tell you Bill, his association with Zarek will bring about no good in this matter."

"Baltar knows the matter is confidential, and should have known better than to talk to Zarek, even if he is a duly elected member of the Quorum." said Adama.

"Gaius Baltar would like nothing more than to see me driven from office, gentlemen. If that happens, only the gods know what he'll do." said Roslin with disgust.

"That will be left to the voters in three days, madam president. You are still the president of the colonies, and you've decided, and I concur that we should continue on to earth, let this planet be a stop off point for water and other supplies."

"I see no real challenge to your re-election, madam president." offered Tigh sounding a bit too smugly to Adama, who was unused to seeing his friend take any notice of politics, much less be a cheerleader for Laura Roslin.

"Thank you colonel, I appreciate that...but I intend to give my all right up until the end, then our fate rests within the hands of the people."

"Gods help us!" muttered Tigh.

"In the meantime madam president," interrupted Adama, bringing the conversation back to the planet, "I will start putting together teams tasked with locating and obtaining materials needed from the surface." The meeting ended, and Adama was left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. A storm was coming, he could feel it.

**Cloud Nine – Cabin Echo 106**

Baltar ran his fingers across Gina's hair, marveling at its color and softness. Over the weeks they had gotten past the awkwardness of physical contact, and Baltar was inwardly amazed at her ability to allow not only physical contact, but carnal as well. Having been both physically and sexually abused by the interrogator Thorne, Baltar was sure it would have taken Gina much longer to allow such intimate contact.

"And you said there wasn't time," said Gina smiling.

"I couldn't imagine saying anything of the sort!" protested Baltar in mock seriousness. She bit his nipple in response.

"Get up and get dressed, Gaius. You have a full day ahead of you, as do I."

"The masses adore me...they can wait." he said. Gina rolled away from him, placed her feet against his side and pushed him across the bed.

"I mean it Gaius, you need to get dressed," said Gina. "This election is important, Laura Roslin's time has come, you need to get out there, meet with the people...make your case. Show them that colonizing _New Caprica_ is the right choice."

"New Caprica doesn't exist my sweet... _not yet_. This planet has the potential to offer humanity a new chance at life, free from Laura Roslin's delusion of prophecy and gods, yet the only way I can make this dream a reality is to crush Roslin in the election, to win by such a mandate that there would be no doubt of my legitimacy to decide the fate of humanity as its duly elected leader."

Gina sat up in the bed, pulling the soft satin sheets across her breasts. Gaius looked intently at her, feeling the overwhelming urge to rip the sheets from her and take her as only he could. The only problem with that thought, was that the female Cylon before him could easily tear the head from his shoulders if she chose to, and also that she was right in the regard that he really did need to get out and work the masses, proclaim his sacred platform across talk wireless. He dubbed the new planet New Caprica, and it was high time that the people knew of this opportunity to partake in "fresh air and soil" as Tom Zarek put it. Frak Adama and Roslin! It was time that the truth was revealed.

"What do you plan on doing, my love?" asked Baltar.

"I have...business with some people from _Demand Peace _later in the morning." replied Gina.

"What kind of business? I can't say I fully trust that lot to be honest with you."

"Don't worry Gaius," said Gina caressing his face softly, "these humans are fairly enlightened, they want peace between human and Cylon, and aren't afraid to do what it takes to achieve it."

"Well...just be careful. You've done a good job at altering your true, beautiful appearance...but photos of your model have been distributed throughout the fleet, don't take unnecessary chances." said Baltar, his concern obvious. Gina Inviere felt what could have been a pang of guilt for what she was about to do. Since her incarceration aboard Pegasus, Gaius Baltar was the lone human that genuinely cared for her, loved her, and trusted her. She knew of his "Head Six," the subconscious manifestation of Caprica Six, the female Cylon who seduced Gaius Baltar on Caprica, heralding the destruction of the colonies. Baltar had admitted that the visions of his Head Six ended the day in her cell when he finally connected to her on an emotional and physical level. Regardless, she knew her remaining time could be counted in hours.

Baltar was now fully dressed, and the hatch to the private cabin was opened. The two security guards assigned to the vice president stood outside the door in crisp, dark suits which no doubt concealed the nine millimeter handguns used by the protective details assigned to the president and vice president respectively. He turned and took Gina in his arms, kissing her softly he told her he loved her.


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter 70.

**Election Day – Colonial Fleet**

Election Day has finally arrived in the fleet, and Vice President Gaius Baltar' shuttle had just docked at _Colonial One._ A knock at the door, and the security detail outside Roslin's office soon announces the arrival of the vice president. Sitting behind her desk, Laura motions to Baltar to sit down, offering him a drink.

"No thank you, madam president," he replies politely. Laura then asks all to leave the room so she could have a moment with the vice president. After the cabin door shuts, Baltar turns to Roslin, his smile now gone. "May I please ask what you want, Laura? As you can imagine, I'm quite busy." The two sat silently for several seconds, neither blinking or turning away. Laura exhaled softly and sat back in her chair relaxed.

"Doctor, I _know_ of your intention to hold a press conference regarding the colonization of the new planet, a planet I might add, and you well know, is still a confidential matter."

"Let me be frank Laura, if and when I am elected president of the colonies, the free rein enjoyed by Admiral Adama with regard to the decisions made on behalf of this fleet, will most assuredly be curtailed. There is absolutely no reason why this planet, which from here on out I shall refer to as _New Caprica, _must remain a secret from the people. I am privy to the scientific expedition's report, despite you and Adama's attempt to leave me in the dark, regarding the suitability of the planet for our people. I've decided that the people have the _right_ to decide their _own_ destiny."

"That, in my opinion doctor, would be a mistake." replied Roslin evenly. "We are still far too close to the Cylons to stop our journey, we must continue until we reach Earth. May I suggest we hold off on the issue of colonization until _after_ the election?"

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" replied Laura.

"You heard me madam president, my answer is no!" A smile crept across Baltar's face as he stood. "I don't think I'll take part in your game that offers me absolutely zero benefits, and multiple pitfalls. I think I smell fear emanating from you, fear that the people will no longer buy into your charade Laura."

"_Doctor Baltar... who was that tall, blonde woman I saw you with on Caprica just before the Cylon attack?" _

The smile was gone, and Baltar's eyes battered through Laura Roslin's defenses, boring deeply into her very being. She had never seen this side of the man before her. His voice was low, devoid of any emotion as he spoke. "I saved your life, Laura...do you remember that? Well I am _not_ going to save your _political_ life today!" With that he turned and walked out the door, his own security detail right behind him. Laura leaned back in her chair and exhaled loudly, where did _that_ come from? She closed her eyes, thinking back to just before the attacks. Her mind drifted, and finally she was walking along the reflecting pool in a plaza on Caprica, discussing a deal to end the teacher's strike when she recognized the diminutive scientist named Gaius Baltar, a man who had just won his fourth Magnate award, walking along the other side with an incredibly tall, beautiful blonde woman. Her mind was racing, so much has transpired in the last few days and weeks. The birth of Sharon Valerii and Karl Agathon's half human, half Cylon child created a massive threat to their safety and survival, a threat that with the aid of Admiral Adama and Doctor Sherman Cottle was immediately dealt with. Now the tall blonde..._why was she important? _thought Laura. Every fiber of her being screamed _DANGER!_

**Deck 14 – Galactica's Detention Center**

"It's gone isn't it?" asked D'Anna.

"The Basestar?" replied Matt. D'Anna nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He wasn't sure he could determine her state of mind in regard to the question. "You _know_ I canna discuss military matters with you."

"Matthew, even here, deep within the bowls of this ship I could feel the bombardment of missiles. Shortly after I felt the unmistakable sensation of making a faster-than-light jump." Seeing that no further response was coming, she smiled, letting Matt off the hook by changing subjects. "It's election day, isn't it?"

Matt could see no reason not to answer the question truthfully. "Aye, it tis lass. I have to admit I'm not gettin a warm and fuzzy feelin about the outcome."

Shaking her head at the idiom, D'Anna asked why.

"Gaius Baltar is way ahead o' Laura Roslin in the polling, that sack o' felgercarb assumes the presidency there's no telling what will happen to this fleet?"

"You don't like your vice president? I have to admit, when I interviewed him on Galactica those months ago I could swear the little perv was undressing me with his eyes." laughed D'Anna.

"You never told me that?"

"Are you jealous, Hephaestus?" teased D'Anna.

"The only thing I'm jealous of Baltar is his I.Q." snorted Matt. "Short little fraker may be a perv, but he's a brilliant little perv."

"How long can you stay for?" asked D'Anna.

"I'm off rotation, so I have awhile. I've already cast my ballot and I brought along this little wireless," Matt pulled out a small wireless radio that had been a loaner from Chief Tyrol. It had seen better days, "to listen to the results." He dropped down to the floor and sat with his back against the bulkhead.

**Colonial One**

Tory Foster was very concerned, the voting was well into the early evening, and Baltar was significantly ahead with only five ships left to report in. It looked as if Laura would lose, and everyone in the president's office new that would be disastrous. It was time to act! Very quietly she whispered in the president's ear who then merely nodded, and turned her attention back to the wireless reports that was being broadcast from Galactica, where over the very loud objections of Tom Zarek, the ballots would be counted under the security of the military. Walking into the anteroom Tory picked up the phone and dialed a number she had committed to memory. "Is this a secure line?" After listening to the answer she responded softly, but with authority. "We've got to act now!"

The ballot counting continued under the watchful eye of Galactica's senior staff, Colonel Saul Tigh was accompanied by Lt. Felix Gaeta, and Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla. Each ballot box was carried by no less than two enlisted personnel, and escorted by one to two Colonial Marines. In the causeway, Petty Officer Dualla stood flanked by two marines when the ballot box from the _Zephyr_ arrived to be counted. The senior of the two Specialists expressed his concern about relinquishing the ballot box before arriving at the actual counting room, but after Dualla explained that the counting process for another ship had already commenced, he relented, not that he had a real choice in the matter anyway. The ballot box was quickly brought into another hatch, and the first act of election fraud was about to begin.

**Office of the Vice President – two hours later**

"I've seen a lot of elections, Gaius. Most honest, a few fixed. And you can always tell the fixed ones because they don't make sense. _And this doesn't make sense! _ stated Zarek indignantly. Just defeated presidential candidate Gaius Baltar sat there stunned, he was extremely tired, the pace of the last few days had been excruciating. The polls had his victory all but assured, and he secretly wondered what the hell had gone wrong? His running-mate was seething, he had paced the small office demanding a recount, and accusing Laura Roslin of rigging the election. Baltar had soon found his voice.

"It's over Tom, Laura Roslin is many things. But she's not corrupt. And she's not dishonest. It's over. The masses have made their decision, now they must live with it." He knew his time as vice president could now be counted in hours. Having dared to challenge Roslin and lost, his resignation would clearly be expected. Part of him felt a slight tingle of relief, to be away from the glare of the media, to return to his scientific research. The arrogant ice maiden won, and he would have to live with it.

**Admiral Adama's Quarters – 2230 hours**

Terminating the transmission with the president, after offering his congratulations on her victory, Adama switched to the line that wouldn't stop winging. His tactical officer was on the other end of the line, and he sounded very anxious.

"Sir, this is Lieutenant Gaeta. Sir... I don't know how to say this. ..." began Gaeta. Adama was tired, and felt a twinge of annoyance at the interruption. He was off duty, and any concerns should have been directed to Captain Aaron Kelly, the current OOD, or Officer Of The Deck.

"_Fast and straight, I'd advise__!" _snapped Adama. There was an audible exhale, and Gaeta cleared his throat softly before speaking.

"Yes, sir. Admiral, I believe that Colonel Tigh is involved in a conspiracy to rig the election for President Roslin." This caught Adama's attention, and he listened intently to Gaeta's accusation. Within minutes he had Colonel Tigh report to his quarters, twenty minutes after that, he had the flight deck officer prepare a raptor for immediate launch...destination _Colonial One_.

**Colonial One – Office of the President**

"_You tried to steal the election?" _asked Adama, disappointment thick in his voice.

"Yes...I did."Yes, I did. And I got caught. But Gaius Baltar cannot become President of the Colonies, Bill. It cannot happen!"

"Laura... I don't want him as President either, but-"

"He's working with the Cylons. I saw him just before the attack in _Caprica_ with a copy of the tall blond cylon woman. The same model who accused Baltar of treason before disappearing from Galactica." admitted Laura, her voice barely above a whisper. Adama could see the embarrassment, and pain etched across the face of his friend.

"What the hell are you saying? Why didn't you say something before this?" demanded Adama angrily.

Laura had tried to regain her composure, whiping away a tear. "Because I didn't remember seeing him with that woman until I remembered it when I was dying. I know how that sounds, but it's real. The same way _Kobol_ is real, and the Tomb of Athena is real, and the map to _Earth_ is real. Baltar is working _with the Cylons!" _

"Even if that's true, you have no proof." replied Adama. Laura admitted he was right as he continued. "Do we steal the results of a democratic election or not? That's the decision. Because if we do this, we're criminals. Unindicted, maybe, but criminals just the same. You try to steal this election, you'll die inside...likely move your cancer right to your heart. The people made their choice. We're gonna have to live with it."

"It's the wrong choice!" Laura choked the words out, it finally occurred to her that the fight was over, and she lost.

**Admiral Adama's Quarters – 0830 The Next Morning**

Gaius Baltar was already in a miserable mood having lost an election that should have been his easily, getting very little sleep, his day was off to an even worse start when his aid informed him that Admiral Adama wanted to see him in his quarters immediately. Had Laura Roslin, newly re-elected, found him beneath her notice to demand his resignation that she would have her military lackey do her dirty work, he wondered? His Marine escort brought him directly to the admiral's private quarters, his own security detail waited outside with Adama's military detail. The news from Adama was not at all what he expected.

"Well, the important thing is the error was discovered and corrected. You've been elected President. Congratulations!" said Adama seated behind his desk, there was no smile or emotion accompanying the news.

"Thank you very much, Admiral. Now, about this error. Exactly what kind of a tabulating error could have occurred on _your_ ship that could've swung several thousand votes away from me in favor of _your preferred candidate, Admiral?_ As soon as I have the time, there _will_ be an investigation!" threatened Baltar.

Adama fixed his gaze on Baltar, his voice lowered, and tone measured as he replied, "I suggest that you take your victory and you leave it at that, Doctor!" It clearly wasn't a suggestion, Adama obviously held the stronger position, he controlled the military who had all the firepower. The presidential security detail was no match for that. He would bide his time, and log this in his memory for the time when his power base was stronger.

"I think you'll find I can be magnanimous in victory, Admiral. And I believe the correct honorific at this time is _Mr. President elect_." replied Baltar. He straightened his posture and looked Adama directly in the eyes when the next words flowed from his lips. "You will now set course for _New Caprica, _admiral...those are _your_ new orders!" With that, Baltar spun on his heel and walked out of the room, not bothering to give Adama the chance to reply, or shutting the hatch door.

**Pilots Country – CAG's Quarters**

Several shot glasses sat on the battered metallic table before the three seated viper pilots. Commander of the Air Group Matt Lensherr hefted a black cylinder and unscrewed the cap. He poured an equal amount of amber liquid into each shot glass. Mark Sarnex lifted the glass and sniffed deeply.

"Whiskey...nice strong smell, where the frak did you get a hold of this?" asked the former intelligence officer.

"Well, back on _Aerilon_ my uncle used to make his own, he started once he found that he could make more cubits wit whiskey than dairy. I used to stop by his farm, which was a few miles from my father's, to help him, and at the same time get a few bottles for myself and the lads I hung out with. I was privy to several of his recipes, which I promptly shared wit Chief Tyrol, who quickly put his own still into action." Matt held up his glass and gave his toast. "To the Fleet...may it survive the presidency of Gaius Baltar...smarmy little daggit fraker!"

"His swearing in ceremony should be starting any moment, I'm gonna turn on the wireless." said Jon Horlach. The three men had become good friends since meeting each other, and Jon was one of a very small group of _Pegasus_ crew members _not_ corrupted by Helena Cain's madness. The wireless was soon tuned to the swearing in ceremony which had started several seconds earlier. Sarnex held out his glass, motioning Matt to fill it up.

"I think I'm going to need three or four more of these to help me get through listening to that little...what did you call him, Heph?"

"_Smarmy little daggit-fraker."_

"...right, smarmy little daggit-fraker!" finished Sarnex. His wide toothy grin brought the other two pilots to laughter. He tossed back the contents of the glass and shook his head violently as if in pain. "Gods damn it, that's great whiskey!" exclaimed Mark. "I just might have to barter with Tyrol for a bottle or two. What do you call it?"

"Clanker cocktail!" replied Matt.

"Oh I bet the girlfriend likes that one." laughed Sarnex.

"I haven't been able to smuggle any in to her... yet." The wireless continued to broadcast the ceremony as the trio continued their commentary on the negatives of a Gaius Baltar presidency. Two hours earlier they had arrived in orbit around _New Caprica, _Baltar thought that taking the oath of office in orbit of their new home would be symbolic. The wireless suddenly screeched as the transmission abruptly ended. The three looked at each other, and Horlach attempted to tune the radio when the klaxon sounded.

"_Action Stations...action stations, set condition one throughout the ship..." _The voice of Petty Officer Anastasia Dualla, who was filling in for Felix Gaeta who was granted leave to attend Baltar's swearing in ceremony boomed over the ship's public address system. The trio scrambled for their assigned vipers as the ship prepared for possible battle.

**Combat Information Center - Galactica**

With Admiral Adama's presence required at the presidential swearing in ceremony, Colonel Saul Tigh was in command of Galactica. He hovered over the tactical officer's station reviewing the incoming reports when Dualla informed him she had the Admiral on the line. He walked over to the plotting table and picked up the receiver, Dualla had already transferred the call.

"XO!" he answered.

"_Saul...what happened?" _The transmission was very distorted, most likely from the electromagnetic disruptions caused by the explosion.

"Admiral, _Cloud Nine_ just exploded, taking _Colonial Movers,_ _Morningstar_ and the _Scorpion Freighter _with her...all souls lost. Dradis didn't pick up anything prior to the explosion, or after, so it doesn't look to be a Cylon attack...but it was _nuclear _Bill, no doubt about that."


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter 71.

**Colonial One – Orbit of New Caprica**

Newly sworn-in president Gaius Baltar sat stoically at his desk, it was less than three days since _Cloud 9_ blew up in a nuclear flash, taking three other colonial ships with her. The military had immediately conducted an investigation into the catastrophe once it was clear that it was not the result of a Cylon attack. Admiral Adama had ordered the fleet to remain at a condition two alert status, the combat air patrol had been tripled until he was satisfied that the fleet was safe within the confines of the nebula that kept the fleet's new home well hidden. The twenty five page report sat like a piece of cancer on his desk, this was _not_ how he expected his presidency to start. Admiral Adama stood silently before his desk for several minutes as he read the report, then finally spoke up when Baltar leaned back in his chair.

"We suspect the warhead was stolen from your lab. Then smuggled aboard _Cloud 9_ by a Cylon agent."

"I don't suppose I could interest you in a cup of tea, Admiral?" replied Baltar. If Adama was surprised by the response, his face didn't show it.

"Mr. President. This may be the first step in a coordinated Cylon attack. I suggest our first priority would be to focus in on internal security." Baltar exhaled audibly in irritation, taking off his glasses he casually tossed them onto the desk.

"No, I don't think so. Our first priority is to the people. See that they are safely established on _New Caprica_. Once that's accomplished... We can put this tragedy behind us."

"You're not listening." countered Adama.

"Let me explain something to you admiral, I don't _have_ to listen. I'm the President. The settlement begins and it begins now...you're dismissed!" shot back Baltar angrily. The two locked eyes for a moment, and Adama slowly turned his back on Baltar and returned to his ship without another word.

**Surface of New Caprica – One Year Later**

"_Where the hell is he?"_ groused Sarnex. Viper pilot Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex sat on the port wing of his viper with a mug of steaming hot coffee. Standing on the tarmac of the newly-constructed runway was Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach and Paul "Crixus" Nix, the latter two from Galactica's Red Aces squadron.

"Unlike Hephaestus to be late for anything," observed Nix.

"Well the new runway is finally completed, and the foundation for the new hanger is about to get dug any time." said Sarnex. "Still can't believe the old man is gonna base four squadrons down here."

"They can't stay up there forever Mark," pointed out Horlach. "Baltar has been wanting to get everyone down to the surface, and truth be told...we're sitting up there in two half-assed staffed Battlestars while the bulk of the population is down here. The masses finally have soil beneath their feet, and fresh oxygen in their lungs...makes you wonder what the frak we're still doing up there."

"The old man thinks the Cylons are coming back. When, and from where only the gods know, but Adama knows it, and I think he's going to take his own sweet time transferring resources down here. Personally...I think it's great. The longer he stays up there, the more pissed off Baltar and Zarek get." said Sarnex flashing his trademarked toothy grin.

"Man, did you see Apollo the other day when he came aboard Galactica?" said Nix. "I hope Laird checked the landing gear on that poor Raptor that had to fly him over from Pegasus. Hade's Hole the shadow of his ass must weigh about thirty pounds." The trio laughed raucously, unfortunately at Commander Lee Adama's expense, a man all three respected highly as a pilot and their former CAG, but couldn't believe how far Lee had allowed his physique to fall completely apart.

"He's been packing it on for a year now," replied Horlach. "Something is eating him up inside, ever since we got here you could see the change in him. I thought marrying Dualla would change that, but it didn't." The stillness of the late morning was shattered by the tell-tail sound of a sonic boom high in the atmosphere. A sonic boom is the thunder-like noise a person on the ground hears when an aircraft or other type of aerospace vehicle flies overhead faster than the speed of sound or supersonic.

"Looks like the boss has arrived." observed Sarnex. "We should be down here a few days as Matt does his inspection of the new airstrip, launching, landing and launching vipers over and over and over again."

"I take it you'd rather be aboard the bucket where the O2 scrubbers work overtime to give you a decent breath of air?" asked Horlach sarcastically.

"Not sure to be honest, _New Caprica_ is no _Caprica! _It's gotten pretty fraken cold these past few months, and the permanent settlements are taking way too long to construct. Half the population are still in _GP-Smalls_." complained Sarnex, referring to the General Purpose green seventeen by seventeen foot military-style tents. Laborers were eager to get started on building their new homes, and surprisingly there was vast deposits of ledge several miles from where _New Caprica City_ was established. As the first few weeks turned into months, problems arose in the form of bureaucratic interference from president Baltar's office. His kind, energetic demeanor soon changed for the opposite, and several of his staff were accused of corruption. Rumors of the president's late night drinking and womanizing ran throughout the settlement.

**Colonial One – Seat of Colonial Government**

"Mr. President, your 11:30 appointment has arrived." reported chief of staff Felix Gaeta, recently retired from active military service.

"Minister Geek?! The hits just keep on coming, don't they Felix?" Baltar was referring to the minister from Libran, Artemis Geek. One of the most powerful Quorum members, and corrupt. It had been rumored that his influence even infiltrated into segments of the Colonial Military.

"You can get through this, Gaius." replied Gaeta as he opened a small rectangular tin that held a modest quantity of red pills. Baltar's eyes widened and he plucked out two, popping them into his mouth and then washing it down with a small glass of brandy.

"Just make sure the taping system records the entire meeting Felix, I don't know what the hell happened last time I met with Geek, but I want something to hold over that slithering viper's head if I need it in the future." demanded Baltar adjusting his tie. "Alright...let's get this over with."

Felix Gaeta disappeared and returned less than two minutes later with Minister Artemis Geek and his aid de camp, a tall strikingly beautiful woman whose name was Tarazan. Artemis Geek was sporting a custom-made black suit, extremely rare to come by due to the lack of proper materials and experienced tailors, Geek did not concern himself with those miniscule obstacles, he merely instructed the beautiful woman at his side to procure something and it was done. His smile was very disarming when need be, but the man behind the smile was anything but. His reputation throughout the fleet was one of a highly efficient minister of the quorum, in the dark underworld of the fleet his reputation was far seedier, with rumors of ties to the black market, and even some unsolved murders since arriving on _New Caprica._

"Ah, President Baltar, thank you for receiving me on such short notice." said Geek by the way of a greeting, his hand extended which Baltar took. His voice was like velvet, and his when he smiled his white teeth looked almost like small razors. Many within the Quorum of Twelve feared the Libran minister, some equating him with the great shark trawling for his next dinner.

"Minister Geek, you should know this office is always at your disposal." replied Baltar not meaning a word of it. The two men sat down and Felix had poured them each a glass of ambrosia. Tarazon stood to Geek's side, she removed a small device from her purse and toggled the "on" switch. A series of rapid fire beeps filled the room, shutting it off she turned towards Geek and raised an eyebrow. Tarazon was Tauron by birth, from the few times Baltar heard her speak, the accent was unmistakable. He knew very little about the tall woman before him, but he wanted to get to know her very intimately, that was for certain.

"Mister President, surely we don't require a recording device for our visit, do we?" asked Geek in mock surprise.

"Please forgive me minister," explained Baltar. "All meetings are routinely, and _automatically_ recorded to ensure accuracy for any important discussions." He turned to Felix and spoke, "Felix, would you please shut off the recorder, and perhaps you and Ms. Tarazan could give the minister and I a moment to chat in private."

"Absolutely Mr. President." replied Gaeta as he typed in a series of commands on the keyboard to the left of Baltar's desk to disable the recorder. "Ms. Tarazan..." said Gaeta, gesturing towards the hatch. She turned towards Geek who merely nodded. She got up, and followed Gaeta out the door, which was promptly secured. A moment of silence extended for several seconds, then Baltar was the first to speak.

"Alright Artemis, what is it that you want?" asked Baltar, his tone slightly annoyed.

"Careful Gaius, your power is not yet all but assured. You need friends, powerful friends here on _New Caprica."_

"I don't need you to remind me of that Artemis," countered Baltar. "Fraking unions!" cursed Baltar.

"They vex you don't they, especially Tyrol?" taunted Geek sitting back in the leather high back chair.

"Exactly! Galen Tyrol was a gods-damned enlisted man aboard Galactica...making sure the...knuckle draggers of the air...whatever, did their damned jobs. Now I have to contend with him and his motley crew of lowlifes when it comes to the building of New Caprica City? To think that this band of, of...malcontents would for a moment, have the audacity to dare hold up construction on what could only be described as the...the crown jewel of _New Caprica." _Baltar's frustration was apparent, and Artemis Geek new exactly how to exploit that.

"One would think that after our deliverance from the Cylons, the years on the run, living as no human being was meant to live would give these...workers, the clear vision that they could help shape a new Utopia for us all would be more than enough..."

"Exactly!" interrupted Baltar excitedly, as if someone...anyone had finally understood what he had been screaming from the rooftops for so long. "How can I...how can _we_ be expected to serve the people if the unions thwart us at every turn?"

"What are your ideas for addressing this, Mr. president?" challenged Geek.

Baltar had thrown back the remainder of his ambrosia, and then filled his glass to the rim. "I'm about to have Tyrol and his thugs arrested and thrown in the detention blocks if they don't stop their obstructions!"

"That _won't_ stop the problem, Gaius!" said Geek ominously. "If you're even remotely serious you need to send a message to Tyrol and his union. A message where they'll never _dare_ raise their heads again!"

"And what might that be exactly?" replied Baltar.

"Make Tyrol _disappear._"

"Disappear, as into thin fraking air?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean, Gaius. If New Caprica City is to achieve its full potential, then we need to send a message." replied Geek holding out his own glass for a refill.

"Just like you did on _Prometheus_ with a certain Picon merchant who wouldn't pay you tribute?"

"You have quite the ear for rumors, Gaius." observed Geek, this time without a hint of a smile.

"I don't do rumors, Minister. While your own network is quite impressive, I am not without one of my own. As president, my very survival depends on knowing the pulse of the people, and more importantly...to know each and every potential threat to my office."

"Are you categorizing me as a threat, Gaius?"

"If I did, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now, Artemis. You'd have been brought out to Pergamus Flats by my security detail, never to return. Your body would not be found."

"Do you really think it would be that easy, Gaius?" challenged Geek.

"Yes, yes I do as a matter of fact. But I respect you as a minister, and I respect your ability to make things happen where others with just as much power and authority have failed utterly. To put it in the words of the Ha'la'tha... _we both must eat_, and I see no reason why our interests cannot coexist, and profit with the blossoming of New Caprica." Geek smiled and stood, raising his glass. Baltar quickly followed suit.

"To New Caprica City...may her bounty line our pockets and keep us fat and satisfied." toasted Geek. Baltar nodded, touched glasses and both men finished off their ambrosia. "Just one last thing, Gaius...what about the military?" 

"Adama?" spat Baltar. "He sits in orbit preparing to defend against an enemy that will never come. My source on Pegasus informs me that over half the crew of both Battlestars are down here on the surface, our protectors are operating on a skeleton crew, unable to even muster a proper combat air patrol. The son, his girth expands to twice the size of the father's ego, I must say I was taken aback by Lee Adama's physical decline."

"But can they pose a threat to us?"

"Adama won't leave that rusting hulk for more than a few days at a time, often to visit my predecessor, who my sources confirm there is some sort of romantic relationship between them. The son... from what I'm told he hasn't stepped foot on _New Caprica_ in over six months, something to do with Kara Thrace or so the rumor goes."

"Well as long as they keep their noses out of our affairs I don't foresee any complications. Tyrol and his union on the other hand..."

"I've sent a back channeled message to him, to get his workers off their asses or they'll be thrown in the detention block, _New Caprica's_ first city will not be held hostage to the demands of those who should be grateful that they even have a job." replied Baltar. "And if that doesn't work, then I'll have my men drag Tyrol out to Pergamus Flats."

"Excellent, my concerns have been addressed sufficiently." said Geek standing, indicating the meeting had come to an end.

"Not so fast, minister," said Baltar. "I have something for you." He walked over to a cabinet and opened the door, pulling out an absolutely gorgeous handmade double layered cut crystal decanter, he handed it to Geek. It was a beautiful emerald green color with a clear glass stopper. Geek was amazed at its heft, it must have weighed four pounds easily. Amber liquid was filled to the brim. "A token of my appreciation."

"Mister president, I foresee a bright future for the both of us."

**Market Square – New Caprica City**

Matt zipped his flight suit all the way up tight to his neck. It was a cold afternoon on the surface, and would not be getting warmer anytime soon. They were approaching the planet's winter season. At his side, as usual, was Peacemaker and Nightstalker. The trio would be returning to Galactica in the next day or so, and were making the rounds amongst old friends. Matt was happy to see Starbuck walking down the market heading in their direction. Her hair was much longer now since she retired from active service and made her home on the surface with her husband, Sam Anders. He slowed his pace as she approached.

"Kara!" he greeted cheerfully. "Yuir looking good lass, looks like fresh air, albeit somewhat cold, seems to be treatin ye well."

"I heard you three, and Crixus, were planet-side running some testing on the new runway. So when's the new space port getting built?" she asked as she scanned the market as if searching for something, or someone.

"Not sure bout a full blown spaceport, but the old man will be housing four full viper squadrons down here on the surface, that be, as soon as Baltar and the laborer's union can come ta some kind o' agreement. The schedule seems to be a wee bit behind."

"Oh frak me, don't get me started on those two jackasses," snorted Starbuck. "Baltar has turned _Colonial One_ into a fraken socialator's house, and Tyrol is behaving like the old time labor leaders of Caprica's past who used to break arms of the workers who wouldn't toe the line with leadership. Both of them are preventing any significant progress on this fraken city."

"Miss the cockpit, babe?" said Sarnex.

"Ya know Nightstalker... I actually don't," replied Starbuck. "New Caprica isn't the tropical paradise I was hoping we'd eventually settle on, but it sure as hell beats the Bucket or the Beast." The two derogatory nicknames for Galactica and Pegasus used by pilots. "Look, as much as I'd like to shoot the felgercarb with you boys, I'm actually kinda busy. Have any of you seen Anders in your travels?"

"Now that you mention it, I did see Sam playing pyramid out on the field with Duck and a few other guys." offered Horlach.

"Thanks!" replied Starbuck as she rushed off without another word in the direction of the pyramid pitch that Sam Anders and a few other pyramid enthusiasts created within weeks or coming down to the surface.

"Now there goes a woman on a mission." observed Sarnex with a grin. "Poor Sam, he musta left the toilet seat cover up or something."

"She looks pissed, better him than us." replied Horlach. The trio walked over to a street vendor that had salted and dried meats hanging from his stand's overhead rack. The wildlife was no larger than a full grown daggit, but they had flourished in the warmer zones of New Caprica, and it was the first real protein that the colonists had a regular opportunity to eat since fleeing the colonies. The meat wasn't of great quality taste-wise, but with the appropriate seasonings and preparation, it was more than adequate. Matt had ordered chunks of the meat that was prepared on a skewer with native vegetables.

"How are we paying for this, my friend?" Matt asked the street vendor.

"Don't worry about it this time, young captain," replied the older man. "the powers-that-be are finalizing a currency after two months of talks and other such felgercarb. The people have relied on a bartering system in the meantime." Matt reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver flask that had a Silver Spar squadron insignia engraved on the front and handed it to the vendor. The man shook his head and pushed it back towards Matt. "This one is on me, captain. If that flask is indeed silver, then you'd be overpaying too much. You're heading back up there, aren't you?" he asked pointing up to the sky.

"Yes, sometime tomorrow morning." Matt replied.

"How about you bring me back a pair of military-issue cold weather gloves then? This cold weather is doing a number on these old hands."

"Consider it done my friend, and I'll see if I can find a cold weather parka ta go along wit it." replied Matt between bites of the steaming hot meat.

"Bless yuir Aerilonian heart." replied the man attempting the thick guttural accent associated with natives of Aerilon.

"Are ye from Aerilon, my friend?"

"No, no...I'm from Tauron, but yours is an accent that's hard to miss. Make sure you and your friends come back to see me when you return. I've been trying a new smoking technique for the meats that involves some interesting native herbs." The three men thanked the street vendor and moved on, occasionally stopping at various vendors, or to talk with old friends that had moved down from the remaining ships still in orbit.

"So what do ye think Jon, when the settlement is completed you thinkin about returning to yuir roots?" asked Matt.

"Law enforcement?" replied Horlach surprised. "The thought has occasionally crossed my mind. I never sought out to be a viper pilot, nor had I ever thought of myself as a commissioned officer in the military. It was something Cain had insisted on when Pegasus picked me up. Everyone worked on her ship, the fact that I was a highly disciplined professional who could fly a raptor most likely shaped her decision about what I'd be doing on her ship."

"Well I would wager they're going to need to establish a law enforcement division here on _New Caprica_ sooner rather than later," observed Sarnex flatly. "truth be told, with what I've seen I'm surprised they haven't already."

"From what ye seen? You got here only two days before me, what are ye talkin about, Mark?" asked Matt.

"You forget oh dairy-farmer-turned-viper god, that just one of my many obvious gifts is the skill of a seasoned intelligence officer. I'm sure Jon's trained eye has picked up on a few less-than-legal services and behaviors in our travels of this fine city still in its infancy."

"Socialators, drug use, shake downs, domestic abuse...most likely a result from having to adapt to a new way of life outside of the confines of the fleet more or less controlled by the military." Jon Horlach quickly ticked off his observations on the new world around him. He was surprised that a police department hadn't already been put in place after a year of being on the planet. There had been surprisingly little progress in creating permanent structures, even with an abundant supply of natural materials. "Word on the street is that Tyrol is purposely slowing work down in order to wring better conditions and benefits from Baltar's administration. Trust me, nothing good is going to come from that."

"Tyrol never struck me as the type." observed Sarnex.

"D'Anna never struck me as the type to be a Cylon." quipped Matt.

"And she still doesn't...I mean who ever would think that a race of machines could design such perfect breasts on a woman." joked Sarnex. Even Horlach, who deeply hated the Cylons smiled at that. While it confounded him that his friend Matt could continue to have feelings for the Cylon known as D'Anna Biers, he always avoided conversing about her. Sarnex on the other hand, suffered no such constraint.

Kara Thrace could barely contain her rage in the face of Sam's stupidity. He was burning up with fever, and coughed up disgustingly colored sputum all the way from the pyramid court to their tent where he collapsed onto the bed. She kicked the side of the bed and railed on. "You stupid fraking idiot! You belong in bed resting, not playing games out in the cold!"

"Take it easy Kara, I'm feeling better, getting stronger."

"Felgercarb! You're coughing up all kinds of disgusting lung butter, and are a walking blast furnace. Stay in bed while I go find Doc Cottle." She stormed out of the tent and headed to the GP (General Purpose) large tent that served as the city's hospital. Cottle had been complaining for months to any quorum member who would listen that construction on the new hospital had to be a priority. He had even demanded an audience with Baltar at Colonial One, but was politely rebuffed by secret service agents and Chief of Staff Felix Gaeta who promised him a meeting as soon as Baltar's schedule allowed. The meeting never happened, and Cottle eventually gave up. Upon entering the tent, Kara had found Cottle finishing up the remaining suture on the hand of a child who had gotten injured playing in one of the unfinished foundations of what was to be a series of governmental buildings commissioned by the president.

"Starbuck?! Now this is a pleasant surprise, what can I do for you?" said Cottle not meaning a single word of it.

"Hey doc, it's Sam. He's still got a bad fever, I don't think he's getting any better."

"Where is he?"

"I've got him strapped down to our bed so the idiot can get actually get some rest." Cottle grunted and applied a large sterile dressing over the child's stitches, and then turned to the parents who were there.

"Try and keep it dry and clean over the next few days, no activities that may pop a stitch or get it infected if you please." he turned towards the young boy, "And stay out of construction areas young man, try and find something fun, yet safe to do instead, understand?" The family soon disappeared and Cottle removed a few items from the locked medical cabinet and placed it in his black doctor's bag. "Alright... let's go see about this idiot of yours."

The examination is quick, and over within minutes. Cottle walks out into the open air, followed by Starbuck. "Hey, doc, wait. So?"

"There's fluid in the lungs. It's probably pneumonia."

"So give him something." pleaded Starbuck.

"I'd love to. I've been out of antibiotics for months." explained Cottle. "I have a lot of patients to see. But he's young and he's strong. So make him rest. Keep him warm. And with a little luck, he'll make it."

**Union Tent – New Caprica City **

Former Deck Chief Galen Tyrol was in the middle of a fiery speech, attempting to bolster the spirits of his membership. Starbuck had left Anders fast asleep in their tent, and needed to get away from things for awhile. She was surprised when she saw Colonel and Ellen Tigh walk into the tent. She made a beeline for them. After a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries, Starbuck came to the point. "Anders is really sick. But Doc Cottle's giving me the runaround and says there's no antibiotics. And that's a load of crap. Anything you can do to help me cut through the red tape."

"You should give Apollo a call. _Pegasus_ is sitting on the backup meds. He'd spring some for _you_."

"Yeah. I doubt that."

"Look Starbuck, that was a long time ago. People change."

**Combat Information Center - Pegasus **

Commander Lee Adama walked through the entrance of the CIC, his wife, the executive officer, was standing behind the plotting table. "What's going on?"

"It's for you." said Dualla nodding towards the handset.

"Who is it?"

"It's for you." she repeated blandly.

"Right." sighed Apollo, instantly realizing who was on the other end of the line. _Starbuck_. "What do you want?"

"_I need a favor."_ came the reply after a moment's silence.

"Is that right?" replied Lee stifly.

"_I hear that you're, uh, hoarding a bunch of antibiotics for the pilots." _

"Where did you hear that?" replied Lee, his anger mounting.

"_Anders is sick. He has pneumonia, Lee. I think that he might die."_explained Kara, her voice cracking.

Lee had been aware of his wife's gaze throughout the conversation, it was when she looked askew at the dradis screen suspended above them that his concentration started to wane. Looking up he noticed lines of distortion, different than the normal dradis display of the planet's surrounding nebula.

"Commander?"

He returned his attention to the phone and instructed Starbuck to wait a moment. "Yeah, lieutenant. What is it?"

"I'm not sure. Picking up something on dradis." replied Dualla, never taking her attention off the screen.

"Dradis? How can you see anything in that soup?" snapped Lee.

"There it is..." she whispered, the screen blinked several times before a dradis signature identifying a Cylon capital ship appeared, then another. "Oh, my gods, it's a Cylon fleet. They found us." exclaimed Dualla. Lee slammed down the receiver, severing the connection with the surface in order to give his full attention to the nightmare unfolding before him. One by one, IFF's for Cylon Basestars started to fill the screen.

"Commander, we've got at least twelve enemy Basestars jumping into orbit of _New Caprica_...correction now fourteen enemy Basestars." reported the tactical officer. "They're launching raiders towards the surface."

"Sound action stations and get me the _Galactica!_" ordered Lee.

**Combat Information Center – Galactica**

Adama was furious, and was quick to respond to his son, "We can't just leave all those people behind."

"_There's nothing we can do. It's taken us forever just to get to action stations over here. We're in no shape for a fight, sir."_

"Admiral, I have four Baseships on an intercept course for us." informed captain Aaron Kelly from the tactical station.

"They'll be wiped out, Lee."

"_We don't have a choice. We need to get out of here right now." replied Lee, his voice raising._

Karl "Helo" Agathon was currently the acting executive officer, and he was quickly at Adama's side. "All decks finally report condition one, sir. Should we launch the alert fighters?"

Adama looked up at the dradis screen, the odds were incredibly against them. There was just no way two Battlestars, even if at full strength could fight off fourteen Cylon Basestars. "Begin jump prep. We're leaving. But we'll be back." He turned towards Agathon, pain in his eyes. "Start your prep."

**Surface of New Caprica**

Sonic booms filled the skies as Matt Lensherr looked up towards the heavens. He wasn't expecting any fighters from orbit to come down to the surface. It wasn't until he saw the silhouette of a Cylon heavy raider descending that he knew something was very wrong. _"Cylons!"_ he yelled. Peacemaker and Nightstalker were quickly at his side scanning the skies.

"There's a lot of em, boss." observed Sarnex.

"Lets get to our ships, fast!" ordered Lensherr. The three took off towards the runway where their vipers were parked. The full out run took just under five minutes as they watched Cylon raiders flying less than one hundred feet above the surface. Rounding the corner, all three skidded to a halt, trying desperately to catch their breaths from the run. Between them and their vipers was a squad of centurions, their claws retracted, and weapons firmly in place, but not firing. Sarnex quickly drew his pistol. _"Don't!"_ordered Matt. "We're outnumbered."

"That would be an intelligent decision, Captain Lensherr." came a familiar voice. It was D'Anna, not his, but obviously another of her model. This one had dark brown hair cut shoulder length. "We're not here to fight, but for the time being I would suggest removing your pistol belts, and placing them on the ground before you." The suggestion was bolstered by three centurions that soon surrounded the pilots, their dual barreled forearm-mounted weapons aimed directly at them. The three were herded off the runway and back into the market square were Matt's eyes widened in horror at the sight of a legion of centurions three abreast and as far as the eye could see marching down the main road into the center of New Caprica City.

_The Cylons had returned._


	72. Chapter 72

Chapter 72.

**Colonial One – Office of the President Day 3 of Cylon Occupation**

It had been several days since the Cylons had returned, and Gaius Baltar's head was still spinning. His _Head Six _had returned as well, and her first words still echoed in his mind, _Judgment Day! _Two Doral model Cylons sat on the long sofa on the side of the room, watching very carefully the reaction of the elected leader of whats left of the human race. A Three model had just finished explaining to Baltar why they had returned.

"Let me get this straight," began Baltar. "A year ago you all up and vanished, with him-" he points to the lone Cavil in the room. "proclaiming that Cylon and man will now go their separate ways, and now you're back to live amongst the very people you tried unsuccessfully to exterminate? Why would any of us believe, or trust you?"

"Well let's not get too high on our horse, doctor." replied Cavil. "Did you forget that almost immediately after I proclaimed the good news, that Roslin and Adama had air-locked me off Galactica, along with another of my brothers? Not very grateful of you people, I must say."

"And what made you think for a moment that humans would want to now live with the instruments of their near destruction? We chose a concealed home for a reason, how did you even find us?"

The Doral model spoke up, "Oh, it was quite by accident, actually. We were over a light-year away from here when we detected the radiation signature of a nuclear detonation." Baltar's heart sank at the revelation, it was _his_ nuclear bomb that doomed them, once again he had been responsible for humanity's misfortunes at the hands of the Cylons.

"Don't look so sad, Doctor...excuse me, _Mister President._" said Cavil with an exaggerated bow. "We're here to improve humanity's lot in life. We have over a dozen Baseships in orbit at our disposal, centurions have already been arriving in order to start work."

"Work?" asked Baltar confused.

"Well certainly you don't expect to live in canvas tents for the rest of your lives." laughed Cavil. "I have to tell you, I certainly have no such intentions. Unlike you...carbon based life forms with all your countless limitations, the Centurions can work day and night to excavate the foundations, erect the framing and finish the interior and exterior far faster, and I dare say far more efficiently then you humans can. The one true God has charged _us_ with humanity's redemption, and it all starts today."

"And if we don't believe in your Cylon God, or want your _gift_ of redemption?" The voice belonged to Tom Zarek, former terrorist and elected Vice President of the Colonies.

"Well, Mister...Zarek, isn't it?" replied Cavil dismissively. "As my friend Doral mentioned earlier, we're here to stay, and rebuild the tattered relationship between Cylon and humanity."

"And if humanity declines your offer of relationship rebuilding?" Zarek shot back.

"That would be a very unwise decision, Mister Vice President."

"Well I've been known to make plenty of unwise decisions, Mr. Cavil, and you can take your offer of rebuilding the relationship between humanity and your own murdering race and blow it out whatever you things use for an ass."

"Brave words for a man without Battlestars or viper contingent." replied one of the Doral models. The confusion on Zarek's face brought a burst of laughter from Cavil.

"You don't know? We're going on three days and you _still_ don't know that Adama and what remains of your fleet jumped away the moment we arrived!" said Cavil sneering with contempt. "Not a very informed vice president, are you Mister Zarek?" Zarek looked at Baltar who merely nodded. He also wondered where his vice president had been over the last two days.

"What are you going to do, Gaius?" demanded Zarek.

"He surrendered already, as if he even had a choice." replied the other Doral.

"So the question is, Mr. Zarek... will you demonstrate the same good sense as your president?"

"I'm not about to bend knee to a bunch of murdering, soulless, machines!" said Zarek standing his ground. One of the Doral's leaped to his feet, grabbing Zarek by the back of the collar. Much to Doral's surprise, Zarek swung his arm around, pinning both of Doral's together helplessly, he followed the move with a flat palm strike to the nose, splintering the bone within it. Doral broke free, falling to his knees and clutching his face, blood poured from the damage. "You learn a few things when illegally incarcerated aboard the prison ship!" exclaimed Zarek, referring to his time in captivity aboard the _Astral Queen. _Within moments, a centurion appeared, summoned by non-verbal signal either Cavil or one of the other humanoid Cylons. Its claws retracted to allow the small caliber gun barrels to come online, both were aimed at Zarek who remained defiant.

"Now _that_ was a mistake, mister vice president." announced Cavil without humor. He turned to Baltar then spoke. "One of our first contributions to society, mister president, will be a Cylon state-of-the-art detention center for those who decide to stand in the way of progress. Mr. Zarek will be our first guest." He snapped his fingers, probably for the benefit of the humans in the room, and the Cylon centurion marched Thomas Zarek out of the room. That would be the last time Gaius Baltar would see his vice president for many months to come.

"Now, onto our next order of business." said Cavil smiling.

**New Caprica Market**

Matt stood inside the vendor's tent who just a few days ago he promised to return with a military-issued cold weather parka. He was joined by Colonel Tigh, Tyrol, Sarnex and Horlach. Their voices were kept low, the centurions were everywhere now. Not threatening, but clearly dispatched to make their presence known. "What the frak happened with Starbuck, colonel?" asked Matt.

"Unknown. All Anders can clearly remember was a skinjob entering the tent, the Leoben model, asking where Kara was and then left. She hasn't been seen since." replied Tigh.

"What about Anders?" asked Tyrol.

"Fevers broke, but he still looks like felgercarb. I promised him we'd get to the bottom of her disappearance. What about your vipers?"

"Guarded by at least a dozen clankers. They've started to fence off the entire length of the runway now that they've got their heavy raiders on the surface. Bigger transport ships have been arriving around the clock. Mostly supplies, and heavy machinery." observed Matt.

"Machinery? What kind, and what for?" groused Tigh.

"Excavators mostly, my guess is that they be plannin on buildin fortifications."

"What's the plan, colonel?" asked Sarnex.

"Fight em until they're dead, or we are." replied Tigh. His head soon snapped towards Tyrol as if he just remembered something. "Chief, did your men secure the weapons?"

"Affirmative colonel, the moment the Cylons arrived, I sent off members of the union's executive board to secure the weapons and hide them, per your orders."

"What have we got?" asked Horlach.

"The third month on the surface, Admiral Adama authorized six weapons caches. We've got one hundred and fifty LSW's, or Light Support Weapons that fire 5.56mm rounds, each equipped with SUSAT sights. Over thirteen hundred 30-round detachable magazines, and at least two hundred G-4 explosives."

"Per Cache?" asked Sarnex. .

"Total." replied Tyrol.

"Not much to throw against them, colonel." observed Horlach.

"We need to move this conversation, gentlemen." said Tigh. "Too many damned skin jobs walking about. Don't need them overhearing what we have or don't have. From this point on, we are the leaders of what will be the organized resistance to this fraking occupation. We need a secure location chief, what can you do?"

"Leave it to me, colonel. I've got just the location in mind!"

**Quadrant delta 562 – Battlestar Galactica**

Three days had passed since the return of the Cylons, three days since William Adama was forced to turn his back on _New Caprica_ and escape for their very lives. The meeting was held in his quarters, in attendance was Captain Aaron Kelly, Lt. Karl "Helo"Agathon, Commander Lee Adama, and Lt. Louanne "Kat" Katraine. He opened up the meeting.

"I would like to thank you officers for your quick reaction and professionalism during the withdrawal from _New Caprica_."

_Withdrawal? Is that what we're calling it right now? thought Lee._

As if reading his son's mind, the elder Adama fixed his gaze upon the younger and spoke. "Withdrawal!" he repeated coldly. "Let's have no misunderstanding of the tactical situation here, we retreated from a severely superior enemy force, thereby preserving our offensive capabilities for a future rescue mission of our people."

"Rescue mission?" repeated Lee. "We have two half-staffed Battlestars, what kind of rescue mission could we possibly mount? It would be suicide!"

"We left a little over 39,000 men, women and children at the mercy of the Cylons, commander! _We will return to get them!"_

"With all due respect admiral, even pooling all of our military personnel together, we _still_ wouldn't be able to fully staff Galactica, let along my ship. Hell, some of our best pilots are on _New Caprica, _and there were over a dozen Basestars in orbit when we jumped away, they have to believe that we'd make some sort of rescue attempt and would keep those ships in place waiting for us to jump back. We'd be blasted out of the stars before we could launch a single viper."

"Commander, let me be crystal clear here, I will not leave those people behind!"

"Admiral those 39,000 men, women and children are as good as dead if they aren't already." argued Lee, his voice on the verge of anger. "Our duty is to the remainder of this fleet, to protect what's left." The elder Adama knew the argument was a waste of time and energy. His was the sole decision-making power of the fleet, he would bide his time, plan, train and execute. They would be successful, or they would be dead.

"Captain Kelly, you are the only qualified LSO remaining aboard Galactica, I need you in the flight pods, otherwise you would assume the role as executive officer per your rank and seniority. As of this time, I am making the following promotions...Helo, you will assume the duties as Galactica's executive officer at the rank of Captain, Kat...I'm promoting you to Captain, and making you commander of the air group, both effective as of this moment." Adama leaned over his desk and retrieved two sets of Captain's collar insignia, he placed one in each of their hands. "Congratulations!"

Lee, and Aaron Kelly stepped in and shook the hands of the two newly-promoted captains. Admiral Adama moved on to the next topic. _"Operation R__etrieval."_

"What's that?" asked Lee, a look of confusion upon his face.

"Operation Retrieval is a contingency plan developed prior to full colonization by Colonel Tigh and myself. A Raptor will regularly jump into the nebula surrounding _New Caprica_ in an attempt to contact whoever is left behind to ascertain the situation on the ground."

"_Why wasn't I brought in on this?"_ asked Lee with a mixture of surprise and anger. The elder Adama ignored the question and continued.

"We planned for this eventuality, Colonel Tigh and myself. From the very first talks about possible colonization, I advised Colonel Tigh to start fleshing out some ideas for a contingency plan in the eventuality of a Cylon return."

"Are we going back, sir?" asked Kat.

"Not at this time captain. We need to first make contact with the surface, establish what kind of enemy presence is on hand and at what strength. If I know Colonel Tigh, he's already organizing resistance as we speak."

"You have more faith in him than I." remarked Lee bitterly.

"Captain Kelly, I'm gonna need you to be wearing several hats down in the flight pods, get on down there and start training a replacement LSO, I'd like you to be in the CIC when the time is right. CAG, get your pilots together, I want to know the exact condition of the air wing, and what you'll need. XO, I want a full rundown on fuel and supplies for the ships of the fleet, I'll meet you in the CIC within the hour." He turned to his son, "Commander, please give me a moment of your time, the rest of you are dismissed." When the hatch sealed shut, the elder Adama spoke up.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Lee? Has the fat swollen your brain as well as your body?" Lee winced, it was the first time his father had spoken to him in such a way since he assumed command of Pegasus. "I don't appreciate your negativity, I don't appreciate your public criticism of Tigh, and I sure as frak don't appreciate you questioning my decisions!"

"And you'd rather have what...your line officers lining up to kiss your ass even when they may feel that your decisions might not be sound? A good officer listens to the concerns of his subordinates, admiral."

"If you have concerns about my decisions commander, then you gods-damned better relay them to me in private. You _do not_ question my decisions in front of the officers, Lee. Do I make myself clear?"

Lee straightened up to the position of attention. "I understand..._Admiral."_

"Good._ You're dismissed!" _Lee stood there a moment, wanting to reply, but thought it just wasn't worth it. Turning on his heel he walked out of the cabin, not bothering to close the hatch behind him.

**Insurgent Bunker -_New Caprica_**

"Not exactly Cloud Nine." observed Sarnex sarcastically.

"Well it's not much, but it's pretty damned secure. We're twelve feet underground, with ventilation shafts extremely well-hidden. Less than five people know about it outside of those of us here now. Several of my executive board members had been roughed up by Baltar's goons a few months ago for a work stoppage. They were pulled out of their tents in the middle of the night and given a pretty good beating. We decided we needed a safe house, or bunker in order to prevent such occurrences that we knew would be happening in the near future. There's power down here, about a dozen cots and other amenities. I was able to secure the wireless set from the Raptor before the centurions secured it and your vipers." said Tyrol motioning towards Lensherr, Sarnex and Horlach.

"This'll do just fine Chief," said Tigh looking about. "I want a table to stretch maps out on, possibly a chalk board if you can scrounge one from Roslin's classroom."

"Anything else, colonel?"

"Yes, move one of those weapons caches down here. I want the egress booby trapped in the event the enemy discover this location. A second way out of here wouldn't be a bad idea either." observed Tigh.

"I'd suggest we tackle that job ourselves, colonel." recommended Lensherr. "The less people we have to bring down here to dig a second egress, the less chances the location is compromised."

"Good idea, captain. I'll let you work out those particulars." said Tigh by way of a dismissal. More centurions had been arriving daily by heavy raider at the newly constructed airfield. Within days of their arrival, the Cylon occupation was firmly established. Roughly two dozen of the humanoid Cylon models were on the surface, directing the construction efforts, and the centurions who now kept order on _New Caprica. _After the second week, several large buildings had been erected along the air strip, one of them being the new detention center that would house troublesome humans. It had been decided to allow the humans to construct the remaining buildings in order to keep them "busy."

**Secure Unit 1**

Starbuck couldn't quite place the scent. She had been gently led, blindfolded, into the room. She had been apprehended after the second day of the Cylon's return. She had not gone without a fight, a number two model, known as Leoben Conoy had confronted her in the market square, informing her that she would be going with him. She reacted with an instep kick to Leoben's groin, praying that the male humanoid Cylons even mimicked the pain produced by a hard kick to the male genitalia. She was not disappointed, Leoben howled in agony as he dropped to the ground. A centurion grabbed her by the arm, and her natural reaction to free herself from the cold, metallic grip resulted in a badly bruised set of knuckles on her left hand.

She had been stripped of her cold-weather clothes she had been wearing at the time of her apprehension. While still blindfolded, she had been stripped naked and then clothed in a dress of very soft, almost silk-like material. The room's temperature was very comfortable, and she was surprised when soft music started to play. She could sense the movement behind her, felt the hot breath on her bare shoulder. A set of hands slowly slid down both of her arms as she wondered what was going to happen to her. One of the hands reached up and removed the blindfold, she blinked in the bright lights until she heard a familiar voice.

"I'm sorry Kara, let me dim the lights."

_Leoben._

With the blinding light subdued, she turned to see the one male that had ever been infatuated with her. Unfortunately for her, that one man was a Cylon, and an extremely dangerous one at that. She was in an apartment, one that vaguely resembled her own on _Caprica_. The scent she couldn't place earlier belonged to a burning candle in an tall metallic candle holder.

"I hope you like our new home, Kara."

"Am I to live in _our new home_ shackled like a daggit?" exclaimed Kara indignantly. Leoben smiled, and produced a key from his pocket. He unlocked the shackles and removed them from her wrists, tossing them onto a nearby couch. He turned towards Kara, his piercing blue eyes slowly scanned her body, the smile on his face clearly indicating he liked what he saw. He moved in closer, foring her to back up to the corner of the table.

"You look so beautiful Kara. Do you remember back on the _Gemenon Traveler _when I told you that you had a destiny?"

"Yes." she replied, she could feel every hair on the back of her neck stand straight up.

"I told you that you would find _Kobol_, that it would lead you to _Earth_. Why did you stop here, this..." he gestures about the room, "is not earth, it is not part of your destiny?"

"We got tired of running from you, it was time to find a home." she replied.

"This _isn't_ how it was supposed to be!" said Leoben shaking his head sadly. He placed his hand softly against her face, pulling her close to him as he kissed her. His powerful body pressed tightly against hers, forcing her back against the table. She reached back behind her, grasping until she found what she was looking for. Her knee once again found its way to Leoben's groin, forcing him back several feet, a mixture of surprise and anger across his face. She swung the base of the candle holder quickly with all the strength she could muster. It struck leoben on the left side of his head, opening a three inch gash, dropping him to his knees. Kara swung again and again, smashing the heavily-weighted candle holder repeatedly against his skull. Blood splattered everywhere, covering Kara's bare arms and face. Leoben lay motionless on the floor, staring up at her. She raised the candle holder high above her head with both hands, then drove it down with all her remaining strength. Leoben's skull split apart. She cocked her head to the side, and crouched down close over his body.

"I'm sure _this_ wasn't how you thought it was supposed to be either." Standing up she looked around the room and spotted the stairs leading up. She bolted up the stairs and threw open the door, only to find a security door behind it, firmly locked. She ran back to where Leoben's body was and searched his pockets, _nothing._


	73. Chapter 73

Chapter 73.

**New Caprica – One month into the Cylon occupation**

The older man passed along the steaming cup of bitter coffee to his customer. Graciously accepting it, Matthew Lensherr took out several freshly-minted New Caprican cubits to pay for it. The old man flipped the coins over, scrutinizing the quality of the coins.

"Not bad work captain," grunted the old man pocketing the coins. "damned ministry has been pumping out the new currency all week. Gods only knows what's backing it."

Matt drank deeply, the coffee was black and bitter like he preferred it, and surprisingly not of poor quality. The old Tauron street vendor Matt had earlier promised winter clothing to in exchange for food had perfected his coffee recipe. Jon Horlach, almost always at Matt's side had ordered a meat and vegetable kabob drenched in a spicy sauce. The two were surprised when a five model humanoid Cylon appeared quietly behind them.

"That looks and smells good, gentlemen. Is it something you might recommend?" Matt had known this model as Aaron Doral, Galactica's public relations executive when the ship was ready to be decommissioned and turned into a apace-faring museum. A small, unassuming man who was one of the more militant Cylon models.

"Didn't know yuir kind needed to eat." replied Matt.

"Captain...Lensherr, isn't it?" The man's voice raised the hackles on Matt's neck, putting him on guard. "I'm surprised you of all people, still haven't realized that we humanoid Cylons mimic human physiology and behavior in almost every manner. Surpass them I would even say." added Doral looking directly at Horlach whose facial expression revealed no emotion whatsoever.

"_Me of all people?" _asked Matt quizzically.

"We know exactly who you are, captain. We also know of your romantic involvement with one of our defective three models."

Biting back his anger Matt leaned down close to Doral and replied, "Doral, D'Anna is far from defective! You claim to mimic humans exactly...if there be any Cylon, humanoid or toaster that could lay claim to that, it would be her, _not you!_" Matt swallowed the rest of his coffee and walked off, Horlach not far behind, staring at Doral as he departed.

**Deck 14 – Galactica's Detention Center**

The door slammed shut and the marine guard who had escorted Adama to the cell returned to his post in the command room. William Adama stood silently for several seconds, glancing down at the prisoner, who was laying supine on the cold metal deck with a hand towel across her eyes. After a few moments, D'Anna gingerly lifted the corner of her towel to see who her visitor was.

"Admiral Adama? I must say I'm pleasantly surprised by your visit, what can I do for you."

"Could you start by telling me why you're laying on the deck, instead of that bed that Captain Lensherr went to great pains to obtain for you?"

"I was catching some rays, admiral." replied D'Anna playfully.

"Rays? "Rays of what?" asked Adama.

"Why rays of the sun of course." she replied matter-of-factually. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sir?"

Adama, realizing she was not about to expound on her statement motioned for her to sit down at the small table in the corner, and then took the chair opposite her. "As you know, we were forced to withdraw from the orbit of New Caprica when your fleet arrived." stated Adama.

"With Matthew stranded on the surface for the last thirty odd days." added D'Anna coldly.

"With over 39,000 men, women and children." corrected Adama. D'Anna softened her facial features and leaned back in the chair.

"_What do you want, admiral?"_

"Why have the Cylons returned?

"What makes you think I would know that, because I'm a Cylon?" asked D'Anna. "Admiral, while I _am_ a Cylon, I've also been in your custody well over a year, I have no way of knowing why they returned. We aren't all wired together, collectively sharing real time information." Adama abruptly stood to leave.

"You're of no use to me then."

"Not at present, admiral, but what about when you return to New Caprica to mount your rescue mission?"

"I never said there would be a rescue mission." countered Adama. D'Anna stood up and walked up close to Adama, he firmly stood his ground.

"_Admiral..."_ her voice was soft now, not confrontational. "Despite what you believe I am, I still _love_ Matthew Lensherr, and wish no harm to befall him, or any of you for that matter."

"Lensherr I believe, but tell me why I should believe that you wish no harm on the rest of us!"

"As I've told you, Matthew and everyone else I've been allowed to speak to...I personally think it was a grave error for Cylons to attack humanity. Not every model is in lock step as you would think. For the most part I will concede, Cavil and Doral models, ones and fives that is, have a deeply ingrained hatred for humanity. The Simons, Boomers, Leobens and Caprica models all have dissenting voices within their ranks, as well as my own."

"Those would be the fours, eights, twos, sixes and three models, correct?" said Adama, more statement than question.

"Very good admiral, someone has done their homework." replied D'Anna smiling.

"I don't wish you ill, admiral. I fully understand that you would rather shove me out the nearest airlock than stand within arms reach of me, I can't do anything about that, but I can, and will do _anything_ to help save Matthew...and those 39,000 men, women and children."

Adama opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came out. He straightened up, cleared his throat and turned to leave. He gestured to the video monitor that he knew the marine guard would be looking at for him to open the cell door. The door quickly opened, and Adama paused in the opening, turning back he spoke. "For what it's worth Ms. Biers...I believe you, and you may indeed have that opportunity sometime in the future. We'll talk again." With that, he was gone, and the marine once again secured the cell door.

**Secure Unit 1 – New Caprica**

"Am I still your angel _blazing with the light of God?" _asked Kara sarcastically as another Leoben copy walked into the dining room. The two model humanoid Cylon looked down at his copy, lying in a pool of synthetic blood that had not coagulated like normal human blood. He looked back up, a trace of sadness in his eyes.

"It doesn't have to be like this Kara. Why are you fighting it?"

"Because I have zero desire to be your sex slave, Leoben."

"_Sex slave?"_ repeated Leoben, as if those very words were poisonous. "I love you Kara, I don't want you to be my sex slave, or my enemy. I want _you_, I want the woman who stands before me radiating an aura that could illuminate the cosmos."

"You need illumination? Whats the matter, lose something?"

Leoben just shook his head slowly, as if taking pity on an obtuse child. "You do recognize this apartment, don't you?" he finally asked.

"Yup." replied Kara with her hands on her hips, making a show of looking around the room. "Almost an exact replica of my apartment back on _Caprica_. Although I must admit, my digs never looked this clean."

"I had one of my brothers on Caprica search the records to find your place of residence, it took awhile, but he finally provided me with the exact dimensions and layout of the structure, then photographed the interior décor, in order to recreate your home."

"I don't suppose you recreated my humidor, filled with _Caprican Imperials?" _Leoben smiled brightly, and walked to a side cabinet. Opening the door, he produced a medium sized humidor which he handed to Starbuck. She didn't bother to hide her surprise as she took the box and unsealed the lid. Reaching in she removed a six inch fumarello bearing the wrapper band with Caprican Imperial's logo. "No fraken way!" laughed Starbuck as she smelled it. She held out the fumarello, and Leoben promptly cut the tip off, placing it between her lips she raised her eyebrows. Leoben lit the fumarello with a silver lighter. Kara drew in the sweet smoke, closing her eyes. After around a dozen puffs, she removed the logo band, crumpled it in her fingertips and flicked it into Leoben's face. He was momentarily disoriented as the wrapper band struck his left eye. That was all the time Kara needed. She had grabbed the heavy humidor and swung it with one smooth motion towards the side of Leoben's head. Impact with the side of his head shattered the heavy wooden box, sending the fumarellos flying in all directions. Several more swings sent the Cylon to his knees, and eventually down to the floor next to the previous bloody copy.

He gasped as blood streamed out of his ears and nose, Starbuck stood over his twitching body, making a show of enjoying her fumarello. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you." said Kara smirking. She dropped down, straddling his chest and peered deeply into his eyes.

"K-k-k-k...Kara, I'll b-b-b- be right... back." wheezed the dying Cylon.

"Take your time, handsome." she replied.

**Pilot's Ready Room – Battlestar Galactica**

"Take your seats, folks!" announced Galactica's CAG as she made her entrance. About thirty viper pilots quickly sat down as she walked up to the podium. She looked about the room which was pitifully have filled with the remaining viper pilots aboard the ship. Normally the CAG addressed individual squadrons with their daily brief or mission, but times had changed, and a little less than half of Galactica's viper and raptor pilots chose to live on _New Caprica_ and start their lives anew. Even less remained aboard the Pegasus.

"Just to bring you all up to speed, we _will_ be returning to _New Caprica_ to rescue our people!"

"_When?"_ shouted out Lieutenant Trey "Mars" Sloan from the second row.

"In two hours Mars, when the frak do you think we're gonna do it?" replied Kat sarcastically. The pilots, Mars included, all laughed and soon settled down.

"Look folks, the mission has not been time stamped yet, we're still in the very preliminary stages of a planning mode. Until we can make contact with the surface, which at this moment we cannot, then all we can do is hone our flight skills. But... we will get our people back. We've all been fat, dumb and rusty for the past year with not having seen so much as the shadow of a Cylon raider, we need to change that RFN."

"That means we _all_ have to be on our game from here on out." came a new voice from the doorway.

"_Attention on deck!" _shouted the CAG. Executive officer and former raptor pilot Karl "Helo" Agathon entered his old ready room. He motioned for the pilots to all retake their seats. He walked over to the podium, and Kat gracefully stepped aside.

"Good morning gentlemen, after hearing the CAG's comments from out in the hallway, I wanted to add a few of my own." Kat nodded at him to continue. "It's been awhile since I've been in the seat of a raptor, so I can just imagine how it is for many of you _actual_ combat pilots. Looking out, I see several new faces that bravely stepped up to fill the ranks of pilots who chose to live on _New Caprica. _ For that, I thank you. But now, we've got to regain our razor's edge, to be those lethal razors that once sent Cylon raider after Cylon raider to download city. The task of rescuing our people is an incredibly daunting one, but one we must and will do!"

"_So Say we all!"_ said Kat loudly. The room of pilots repeated it with one thunderous roar. Helo nodded to the pilots and exited the room only to find his boss waiting for him.

"Saul Tigh couldn't have said it better, Helo." said Adama.

"Would he even have said it to begin with, admiral?"

Adama grunted, and then replied with a smile barely concealed by his mustache. "Probably not." The two men walked the length of the corridor that leaded directly to the catwalk that overlooked the launch bay. Helo finally broke the silence between the two men.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"You don't need permission to speak your mind, XO...shoot." replied Adama.

"You've been spending quite a bit of time with Sharon."

"I have no designs on your wife, Helo." replied Adama. Helo was taken aback.

"Oh no, sir...I didn't mean that." He was embarrassed, and Adama put him at ease.

"Karl...Sharon has been an incredible sounding board for my thoughts, fears, and hopes."

"Ever since Laura Roslin chose to live on New Caprica?" added Helo, unsure if he was overstepping his bounds.

Adama smiled. "Yes, something like that." In the year that has passed, Adama had taken Sharon into his confidence, she had been instrumental in being the Colonial's source on all things Cylon, and had aided the fleet several times against her own race bent on their destruction. She became an adviser of sorts, having apparently fully gained his trust. Her cell, long a barren, sterile room of shatter proof reinforced glass and steel now contains a couch obtained from one of the former luxury liners that had to make room for refugees, a small coffee table, and other small comforts. The two had occasionally sat down for tea, or noodles to make conversation. With Kara Thrace living on New Caprica, Sharon Valerii soon assumed a daughter-like role with the admiral.

"Will she ever be free of the brig?"

Adama looked deep in thought. "Not much of a home for a married couple, I suppose."

"No sir… not much of one."

"I've given this a lot of thought Helo, spent many nights digesting our talks. Sharon isn't Boomer! She's not the Cylon copy that put two rounds in my chest that day in the CIC."

"No sir, she isn't."

"She's saved this ship, and this fleet several times, and I think that's earned her the right to walk freely among us. As commander of this Battlestar, and admiral of the fleet it is well within my authority and power to commute her sentence."

"I'm sure that might be met with resistance."

"One of the perks of holding the top spot, Helo...I don't have a boss, and I don't have to care if people like the decision, or not."

**Insurgent Bunker -**_**New Caprica**_

Jon Horlach entered the room, Saul Tigh and Sam Anders were already there, scanning the wireless with the transmitter removed from a raptor just as the Cylons were landing. Both men turned to him. Tigh spoke.

"Another day, another disappointment. Fraking Cylons are jamming every single frequency, there's no way to contact the orbiting raptor."

"You're dreaming colonel, there's no fraking raptor up there." said Tyrol bitterly from the side of the room. Anders nodded his head in agreement. Tigh glanced at both of them and shook his head.

"Pay them no attention Peacemaker, there's a raptor up there." said Tigh. "What do you hear on the surface?"

"The ministry is putting together an armed human police force." replied Horlach bitterly.

"Human Police Force? Who the frak would volunteer for that? Gaius Baltar's administration is actively collaborating with an occupying enemy force, that makes him a traitor, and anyone who works for him...that includes a human police force."

"How did you find out? asked Anders.

"I was approached by Gaeta and one of the Dorals."

"Gaeta knew of your background, that's why you were approached." said Tigh. "You turned down the occupation leadership, a fraken Doral model at that... they're the worst of that whole line of toasters. You can bet your Libran ass that won't be forgotten about soon."

"Fraken Gaeta...I'd like to pop a round in his skull." added Anders.

"Well, we'll have time enough for that later, we need to do something about this human police force, send a message that collaboration with the Cylons is a crime punishable by death." said Tigh.

"What's yuir plan, colonel?" asked Matt now walking down the steps into the bunker.

"I want teams of people, people we can trust. We need to start weakening the hold of the Cylons on our people. We need to make sure this fraken city is in full chaos mode when Galactica returns." 

"I don't believe for a second there's a rescue out there, but I'll tell you this..." said Anders, "I'd rather die on feet then live on my knees. Let's take these frakers down hard, make them bleed and download for every inch of New Caprica."

"I'll second that!" grunted Tigh taking a swig from a silver flask.

In the span of two months, New Caprica had become nearly a prison colony. Twenty two New Caprica Police Officers, all human, had been executed by the resistance fighters organized by Colonel Tigh, Anders and Tyrol. Improvised explosive devices had inflicted catastrophic damage on Cylons, human and metallic alike. Within the presidential office, patience was running thin.

"How many this week?" asked Baltar, the fatigue clearly evident in his voice. Chief of staff Felix Gaeta shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The resistance had been running amok for weeks, and the Cylons who allowed him to remain president were losing a very human trait...patience.

"The southern market patrol were found in Breeder's Canyon, each one had a gunshot to the back of the head." informed Gaeta.

"They were executed?" Baltar popped two red pills from a vial that he took from the top drawer of his desk. He filled a glass with amber liquid and quickly downed the contents. "Oh this just keeps getting better."

"Look mister pres- _Gaius!_" the sharp tone brought Baltar back to the present. "Both of the officers were severely beaten according to the autopsy."

"This has got to stop." replied Baltar angrily.

"_It had better!" _came a voice at the door. Only the Cylons entered the presidential office undeterred by the presidential protection agents. The voice was unmistakable..._Cavil. _"At what point do you plan on bringing these terrorists to heel, mister president?"

"We'll increase the patrols." replied Gaeta.

"Not that I was talking to you, but I think we're past that now." replied Cavil contemptuously. "I think it's about time we augment the New Caprica Police with our centurions."

"No, this is a human problem that needs to be solved _by_ humans." shot back Baltar.

"And you're doing such a wonderful job," said a second Cavil entering the room. He looked at Gaeta and ordered him to leave, Felix quickly left the president's office.

"You know, against my better judgment, you were left in office to lend an _air_ of stability to the new 'order' on New Caprica. That would appear to be my second mistake."

"And what was your first?" asked Baltar.

"Thinking our two races could live together in peace, and that your race was worth living at all."


	74. Chapter 74

hapter 74.

**Cylon Hanger Bay – New Caprica**

"All right, we're good." announced Tyrol. Former deck chief Galen Tyrol backed away slowly into the shadows, playing out the detonation wiring from the spool. Sam Anders and Jon Horlach stood watch as Tyrol backed up into the darkness. The underground hanger was where the Cylon's unloaded the supplies from Heavy Raiders arriving from one of several orbiting Baseships. About a half dozen humanoid Cylons stood by the hydraulic lift that would lower the Heavy raider from the surface.

"I can't believe we were able to gain access to the hanger," said Sam. "how the hell where you able to get access codes to that service door?" Tyrol turned and gave a wry smile.

"My mysterious contact of course. Whoever he or she is, they've provided some excellent information over the last month." replied Tyrol as he began to screw the detonation cord into his hand-held detonator.

"You have no idea who it is?" asked Horlach, sweeping his weapon from side to side, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement.

"None!"

"How do we know we're not getting set up?" asked Anders.

"With the information we've gotten so far, they've allowed us to inflict a frak-load of damage onto the Cylons... skin job and clankers alike, the source is good."

"Where the frak is Nightstalker?" demanded Anders, looking directly at Horlach. "He was supposed to be here, ever since Colonel Tigh was arrested he's been like a wraith... now you see him, now you don't."

"I have no idea, he was already out and about by sunrise." replied Horlach slightly annoyed. He was becoming annoyed with the former Libran intelligence officer himself. Always out and about, and taking fewer and fewer missions. Colonel Tigh's arrest and incarceration at the Cylon's detention center had unnerved the senior leadership of the resistance. Over the past few months the occupation and ministry leadership had expended great amounts of time and resources attempting to locate and neutralize resistance leadership. What set out to be a secret meeting in Breeder's Canyon turned into a disaster as the Cylons ambushed Colonel Tigh, and several other leaders from different districts of New Caprica. Tigh was shot twice in the leg and captured easily, the other leaders were either killed on the spot, or captured and ruthlessly interrogated. The location at Breeder's Canyon was established so no one person would know the secure location of the other resistance headquarters in the event one of them had been captured and compromised. The meeting was top secret, and it was soon determined that the meeting was leaked, but by whom?

The sound of the hydraulic lift powering up cut off any further communication. The trio looked down from their secure positions in the darkness at the lift. It started to descend. A Heavy Raider began to be lowered down from the surface. When it came to a complete stop, the rear hatch opened and out stepped two humanoid Cylons. A three and eight series who stepped aside for the forklift that glided past them into the large compartment. Within moments, it backed out, a pallet loaded with crates of ammunition appeared.

"Oh frak, it that what I think it is?" exclaimed Tyrol excitedly.

"Looks like small arms ammunition!" laughed Anders. "That transport must be loaded with munitions."

"If we detonate, whatever munitions in the raider will also detonate," cautioned Horlach. "We might end up getting our asses blown off right along with those skin jobs."

"Worth the risk, Peacemaker." shot back Anders. "Look chief, we'll hold open the service door, once you hit the switch you need to move that fat ass of yours out of here RFN! Think you can do it?"

Tyrol glanced back at the service door that they came through. It was almost twenty yards away, and there was no time to splice together a longer line in order to detonate from a safer distance. "No problem, I can make that." said Tyrol not sounding very convincing. Horlach and Anders exchanged disbelieving glances, but knew that the chance had to be taken. If that Raider was indeed packed with ammunition, it could bring down the entire roof of the hanger bay, making the secure unloading that the Cylon's had enjoyed no longer feasible.

"May the gods be with you Galen." said Anders solemnly.

"Just move that fat ass chief." said Horlach smiling. The two made their way to the rear service door and punched in a series of commands on the keypad. The thick door unlocked and was pulled open. John stood in the doorway, using his weight to keep the door from closing. They could no longer see the raider, and could barely make out Tyrol from his darkened hiding spot. Galen braced his foot against a vertical support beam which he would use to push off and sprint to the not-so-assured safety of the service door. Looking back he took one last glance at the raider and then flipped the toggle switch.

The feeling of blistering heat was incredible, carried by the sudden rush of turbulent wind that seemed to propel Tyrol along his trajectory for the door being held open by Anders and Horlach. The explosion was catastrophic as the humanoid Cylons were immediately vaporized by the blast. The more durable metallic centurions lasted only seconds longer as the destructive force was intensified by the detonation of the armaments within the Heavy Raider itself. Metal from the ceiling level shrieked and twisted as the vertical supports were blown away in an instant. Concrete and soil came crashing down upon the underground Cylon hanger, intensifying the shock wave rippling throughout the chamber that Tyrol was desperately trying to escape.

Jon Horlach braced his feet as best he could in order to force the service door shut against the oncoming shock wave that Tyrol was riding at the head. Tyrol dove headlong through the opening as Horlach and Anders shoved the heavy door closed. The heat was intense and the combined might of the two men barely got the door slammed shut. Tyrol got to his feet to slam shut the large handle to secure the door.

"Holy frak, that was close, I can feel the heat through the door." exclaimed Tyrol.

"My gods-damned hands are burned from the conducted heat through the door." groused Anders as the trio took off down the hallway for their escape. Alarm klaxons blared through the hallway as they came to the last door leading to the surface. Horlach cracked open the door to check the surface. It would not be a good thing to step out into a large Cylon contingent responding to an explosion of their hanger bays.

"It's clear, let's move." snapped Horlach tersely. Their ears were ringing loudly from the explosion, and Jon had to repeat himself louder for Anders.

It was pandemonium in the market square as squads of centurions raced to the scene of the explosions, the initial bomb had caused a chain reaction fed by ammunition stores being offloaded from the raider and the underground fuel tanks, their case-hardened steel tanks rupturing. From the corner of the market, Matt Lensherr watched the scene unfold with a set of binoculars, a thin smile spread across his lips.

"I wouldn't look too happy Hephaestus." Matt swung around at the sound of the familiar voice.

"_D'Anna?"_

"Of a sort." replied the three model humanoid Cylon. The only difference between this model and the one he loved still aboard Galactica, was the hair cut and color. This model at jet black hair cropped in a chin-grazing bob style haircut. She wore a pair of black slacks, black knee-high boots and a creme-colored shirt. An ankle-length leather coat complimented her tall physique. She stepped in close to Matt, studying him with a piercing set of verdant eyes. "I can see why my sister is attracted to you." she finally said with little emotion.

"What do ye want, lass?"

"Are you the architect of that?" she asked, motioning her head towards the now-ruined underground hanger that was billowing thick black smoke.

"Would ye believe me if I said no?" challenged Matt. His question was met with a smile as she ran her fingertips along the rim of the military-issued binoculars hanging from a strap around Matt's neck.

"Let me guess...you were out bird-watching and just happened across this act of terrorism?"

"Don't tell me yuir gonna outlaw innocent bird-watchers with binoculars now?"

"Not at all, but _terrorism_ is outlawed, and punishable by death."

"Making an accusation, are ye?"

"Not at all." she parroted with a smile. "Watch yourself Captain Lensherr...rumor on the street is you're connected with the leadership of the terrorists."

"Than why don't ye arrest me know?" shot back Matt, his body tensed like a steel coil ready to snap her neck. This D'Anna was clearly not his, not only in appearance, but in demeanor. She traced her long fingertips down his cheek, and over his lips.

"Stand down Hephaestus!" she replied. "If I wanted you arrested, or dead you would already be so." Matt was now aware of the Centurion that had silently appeared behind him. He would be cut down before he could get his hands around this particular three's slender neck. He was unarmed as well, it had been one of the very first new "laws" enacted by the collaborationist ministry headed by President Gaius Baltar.

"So give me a reason why I shouldn't place you under arrest right here and now?" asked D'Anna.

"I can give you _four_ good reasons...and each one of them are pointed at yuir pretty little head." replied the Aerilonian, gesturing along the rooftops of the nearby market square. While the leadership seldom appeared armed in public, their security was assured by roving snipers.

This model had the same type of smile that his own D'Anna had when confronted. The two locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity before the female Cylon spoke, breaking the silent showdown. _"Carry on Centurion!" _she ordered, never taking her eyes off of Matt. The metallic monstrosity followed her commands and walked off towards the still-burning hanger. "Walk with me captain." It was not a request, and D'Anna took Matt 's arm and walked toward the rear of a wood carver's kiosk. "This resistance is going to be put down, Cavil and the Dorals especially would just as soon nuke the planet and be done with humanity."

"Why are you telling me this? If ye think I'm a part of the resistance then why aren't ye tossing me in that fraken dungeon o' yuirs.?" said Matt pointing in the direction of the Cylon detention facility that currently was holding Colonel Tigh.

"Because you would never be seen again." said the Cylon matter-of-factly.

"And you care...why?"

"My sister would be beside herself if something were to happen to you."

""D'Anna is locked in Galactica's detention center...somewhere...out there!" replied Matt angrily, waving his hand across the night sky. D'Anna merely smiled.

"What the frak do ye find so amusin?" asked Matt.

"We both _know_ Galactica is going to attempt a rescue, captain."

"We're approachin four months under Cylon occupation, perhaps ye know somethin I don't."

"Our return to New Caprica was a mistake, we never should have entwined ourselves back in the lives of humanity." replied D'Anna softly.

"_Then go!_ Leave us the hell alone, you've already done enough damage." said Matt bitterly.

"Please don't go and get yourself killed captain, you're now a target. _Your_ D'Anna wouldn't want you hurt or killed...and neither would I." With those words she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Matt stunned speechless.

**Office of the President – New Caprica**

"_They did what?" _asked Baltar.

"They detonated a bomb in hanger two." replied Gaeta. "Centurions were offloading a shipment of weapons and ammunition that were needed to combat the resistance."

"You mean to fight the bloody terrorists!" countered Baltar angrily.

"Sir... those are _our_ people." replied Gaeta nervously.

"No Felix! Those are terrorists that took root before the Cylons returned. Lazy malcontents who refused to grasp the wonders this virgin world had to offer. This was to be our rebirth, humanity's second chance."

"A second chance that is fast approaching its termination point." said Cavil from the doorway.

"We were...discussing the situation regarding the hanger bay explosion." offered Baltar.

"_Discussing?" _replied Cavil, as if the very word was poison upon his lips. "The time for discussion is long passed mister president! The gloves now come off."

"What would you have me do?" countered Baltar standing his ground.

"Round up one hundred men, women and children...children mostly," began Cavil. "Stand them up against a wall in the market square and execute them. Send a message to the resistance that it all stops _today!"_

"I cannot, _will not_ execute innocent women and children." said Baltar indignantly.

"Then perhaps we should just execute _you?_" snapped Cavil.

"That's not going to happen!" declared a Six model Cylon now entering the room. She walked over and placed herself between Cavil and Baltar. "You're over-reaching Cavil, yours _is not _the word of God."

"God?" laughed Cavil. "You know Six, at some point even you are going to have to wake up from that fantasy. We're machines, pure and simple. There is a problem that has to be addressed, not by some invisible man in the heavens casting down bolts from the blue, but by boots on the ground...metallic boots."

"Nevertheless Cavil, you don't wield absolute power and authority here, decisions are made by consensus of the majority."

"The majority is getting tired of terrorism, tired of being assassinated by the bullets and bombs of cowardly assassins. If your pet is unable or unwilling to address the situation, then I'll start off by hanging him in the market's square, then start culling the current human population to more manageable levels...say about a thousand." said Cavil with a smile.

"We need to stop being butchers." interrupted Boomer 

"The entire point of coming here was to start a new way of life. To push past the conflict that's separated us from humans for so long." argued the Six.

"And what has it gotten us? It's not like they welcomed us with … with - frak it. Never mind. You're all living in a fantasy world. Consider the irony in that." laughed Cavil. "Delusional machines. What's the universe gonna come up with next?"

**Resistance Headquarters**

Mark Sarnex and Paul Nix had drawn their weapons as the door to the bunker was thrown open. Seeing Tyrol, Anders and Horlach bound in they quickly holstered their sidearms.

"Holy frak, what did you guys hit? There's no way that small bomb produced that huge explosion." said Nix excitedly.

"I had some augmentation." replied Tyrol flatly.

"That's exactly what your wife's been saying!" replied Sarnex flashing his trademarked white toothy grin. The men laughed and the demo team sat down to take stock of any wounds they didn't have time to check for while running for their lives.

"That was really close boys, realllllyyyyy close." said Anders. "The Cylons are gonna be pissed, you know they''' be launching a crackdown.

"Frak em. As long as they're an occupying force then they are legitimate targets." said Nix.

"What about our own people?" asked Horlach wearily.

"Jon, you have to ask? Any human, and I mean _any_ human that puts on a New Caprica police uniform is tantamount to committing high treason which is punishable by death." replied Anders.

"I wasn't exactly talking about them. I'm talking about our people who strap on explosive vests to take out the NCPD and their Cylon masters." corrected Horlach.

"Every single one of them has been a volunteer, Jon." said Tyrol placing a hand on his shoulder. "They all stepped forward for the cause, many of them had loved ones killed during the occupation and earlier round ups, many felt they had nothing left to live for and wanted their sacrifice to mean something."

"I can't say I agree with that logic at all, Galen." replied the former Libran police officer.

"Don't forget, NCPD is dedicating their new precinct house tomorrow. Has it been determined who's gonna do it?" asked Anders.

"Scalper jumped at the opportunity," replied Tyrol. "His vest is almost completed. It wasn't easy getting the New Caprica police uniform, but with winter settling in, the long bulky uniform coat won't bring too much attention, and it allows for extra explosives that normally couldn't be concealed so easy."

"It'll send the right fraken message, loud and clear." announced Anders. The hatch door rapped once, then two more times, indicating a friendly was going to be entering the secret bunker. The door swung open as the men glanced over to see Matt walk into the dimly lit room.

"Hephaestus...What did you think?" asked Sarnex beaming.

"It would appear the lads had a wee bit o' help. What was it, fuel tanks?" asked Matt walking over to a small wooden table that held a small burner with a pot of coffee on it.

"That and an unexpected, yet welcome supply of ammunition brought down from the Basestars." offered tyrol.

Matt took a sip of the coffee, and grimaced. "Gods, this swill seems to be getting worse." He slid down onto a crate being used as a seat and closed his eyes.


	75. Chapter 75

**Chapter 75.**

**Cylon Detention Center**

Ellen Tigh waited outside the gates patiently, she kept her gaze firmly locked on the main entrance, waiting for the doors to open. The sky was overcast, and it was approaching the winter season on New Caprica. She wished she had time to shower, to wash the shame and stench off her porcelain skin. She kept telling herself it was for Saul, but deep down it didn't make her feel the least bit better.

Within the detention center, Cavil sat on a metal chair in the doorway of Saul Tigh's cell. He wore dark sunglasses to keep out the ever-present bright lights that bathed Tigh's cell. Part of his pattern of torture that a Doral model had crafted shortly after Tigh's capture. The bright lights were on twenty four hours a day, and the artificial sounds of fingernails on a chalkboard were constantly pumped into his cell. When Tigh refused to break after the second week of interrogation, Doral became frustrated and had a centurion hold Tigh's head secure as he used a rusty spoon to slowly scoop out his eyeball. The howls of agony reverberated throughout the detention center, yet Tigh would not utter a word.

"Do you know that every time they take you out of this cell, we come in here and we change those little hash marks on your little calendar there you're trying to hide." laughed Cavil pointing towards the corner of Tigh's cell where he had attempted to keep track of his days by using his fingernails to scratch out hash marks on the wall. No answer came from Tigh's lips. Cavil flipped through a folder containing sheets of paper, and a photo of Tigh taken on the day of his arrest. "We reviewed your case today. And I must say there was great disappointment on the review committee." Not getting the response he had hoped for, Cavil exhaled audibly and walked out of the cell, metal chair in hand. After several seconds, he popped his head back into the open doorway and spoke, "Come on. We gotta get you processed. It'll take an hour or so. Bureaucracy must be served. But if you're lucky, you'll get home by dinner time. Colonel, come on. I'm not gonna hold this door open forever."

**Secure Unit 1 – New Caprica**

"Hi, honey, I'm home. You kill me, I download, I come back, we start over. Five times now.?" asked Leoben as he walked down the stairs. "I'm trying to help you, Kara. I only want you to see the truth of your life. The reason why you suffered and you struggled for so long. That's why God sent me to you. That's why God wants us to be together. All right?"

Kara looked down at her lap and exhaled softly. "You're right. You're right. And I hear you. I do. So thank you." she leaned in close as if to kiss him. "Thank you for putting up with me. I'm so sorry."

"Put it down, Kara. Just put it down." said Leoben, never taking his eyes off of her. The knife clatters as it hits the ground. Kara grins widely.

"I'm a patient man." says Leoben.

"You're not a man!" counters Kara.

"I'm willing to wait. You just need more time."

"I don't need more frakkin' time. It's never gonna happen.

"Of course it's gonna happen. You're gonna hold me in your arms, you're gonna embrace me, you're gonna tell me that you love me. I've seen it." Starbuck recoils at the sound of sincerity in Leoben's voice. _He truly believes that_, she thought.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're insane?" asked Starbuck.

Leoben straightened up, his eyes penetrated Kara's defenses all the way to her soul and said, "To know the face of God is to know madness. I'm going to bed. Be nice if you joined me. Either way, you're spending the night with me." He glances down at his old body and smiled. "I do love you, Kara Thrace. Good night."

The cold evening air invigorated the shadowy figure standing behind the stack of empty pallets. The Cylons had enacted a dusk to dawn curfew after the hanger bay incident, and black-masked New Caprica police, humans, patrolled the streets to ensure the curfew was being obeyed. The shadowy figure froze when the centurion quietly approached him. The clawed hands quickly retracted, and the barrel of the forearm-mounted gun quickly assembled. It stepped in closer, and the red optical beam slashed quickly across its metallic head, scanning the human before it.

_"Disengage centurion!" _ the voice was cold, as if emerging from an ancient crypt. The metallic foot soldier did as ordered and stepped aside as a Leoben stepped forward. "You were early lieutenant, had I not arrived when I did you would have long joined your ancestors. Citizens are not allowed on the streets after dusk."

"Very inconvenient." replied the human unimpressed. This drew a thin smile from the number two model who leaned back against a stack of empty pallets.

"I'm already bored. Please don't tell me you're already outliving your usefulness." replied Leoben glancing over towards the idling centurion.

"I'm here to _save_ lives, Leoben. Human lives, whats left of us. These tactics by the resistance puts those lives in jeopardy!"

"The terrorists put their lives in jeopardy, you mean?" replied Leoben with a raised eyebrow.

"Whatever makes you compute better." shot back the shadowed figure clearly not intimidated.

"That and a top position in the new ministry is what drives your desire to cooperate with us?"

"_The_ top position in the new ministry, you mean?"

Leoben chuckled and shook his head. "You humans are such flawed creations of God, how you lasted this long is a true mystery. Well enough of the small talk, what do you have for me?"

"Your new precinct for the NCPD will be hit tomorrow. One of the resistance members will infiltrate the ceremony dressed as a member of the NCPD."

"Name!" shot back Leoben.

"Scalper."

"Is that a name or pilot's call sign?" asked Leoben testily.

"John "Scalper" Henderson, he's not a pilot, he was a former marine who had an interesting way of dealing with the enemy."

Leoben brightened up, "Ah...this would be the individual who removed the scalp of many of my brother and sister Cylons since our arrival. This human has a very high price on his head, if we were actually paying bounties, that is. The ministry should have his photograph on file."

"That's all I've got." said the human informant finally.

"Very well, thank you for your service, preventing this act of terrorism should send a message out loud and clear to your people, that resistance is futile and that peace between the two races is the only way to ensure the continuation of yours. You've done more in the last three weeks than that little daggit Baltar has done since day one in office."

"Well you just make sure you don't forget that when the resistance is rounded up, what I'm doing would be considered treason by many."

"Those would be the warmongers who are incapable of changing, or adapting to the new universal order. Consider yourself humanity's savior, my friend." Leoben's voice was now soothing, the shadowy figure could feel it shoring up his resolve, chipping away at the doubts that lay buried deep within his brain as to whether or not he was doing the right thing.

**Front Gate – Cylon Detention Center**

Ellen Tigh's eyes went wide with horror as she saw her husband emerge from the main gate. Once through its portal, the gate slammed shut behind him. He was limping, and supported himself on a cane. "Saul! Ohh! Oh, Gods. Gods. What did they do to you?" she cried. Gently touching the dirty bandage over his eye.

He embraced her tightly, kissing her tenderly on the lips. "It's all right. I'm out. That's all that matters. Let's get out of here." The two walked briskly to their tent, Tigh occasionally stopping to see if they're being followed. After determining that there is no tail, Tigh returns to his tent where there is a romantic reunion with Ellen.

**Resistance Headquarters**

Anders and Tyrol turned towards the creaking sound of the secret entrance to their underground bunker, both smiled when they say Colonel Tigh emerge.

"Uh... good to see you, Colonel." offered Tyrol taking notice of the eye patch and cane.

"It's good to be seen." replied Tigh with a grunt. "Look, I know you're wondering, so I'll save you the trouble. The eye is gone! Scooped it right out with a fraken spoon that sick bastard Doral, must have been payback for my locking his sorry ass up on Ragnar Anchorage. He picked it up and showed it to me. Looked like a hard-boiled egg."

"Thanks for the visual, colonel. It'll be a long time before I have a hard boiled egg for breakfast." laughed Anders.

"Big fraken boom today, heard it deep down in the bowls of the detention center. Was that you two?"

"We had some help from Peacemaker."

"What's our next target?"

"New Caprica Police are dedicating their brand new precinct house tomorrow. Our source indicates that Baltar himself will be there." reported Tyrol handing Tigh an inter-ministry memorandum.

"Gaius Baltar? These are right out of the ministry files. Where are you getting this stuff? Who's your source?" asked Tigh.

"I have no idea. Source won't tell me what their name is. It's probably safer for all of us. We've been getting stuff like this for weeks." replied Tyrol with a shrug. "However, I think we can get a shot at him too. The problem is, it's gonna be tough avoiding human casualties."

"Then don't avoid 'em." growled Tigh as he sat himself down on a wooden stool. "Send a message. You work with the Cylons, you're a target. No boundaries for the Cylons, there's no boundaries for us. Anything we can do to nail that son of a bitch, Gaius Baltar, is worth doing."

"Any contact from Galactica on the wireless?" asked Tigh hopefully.

"None sadly, every day, we try and contact the raptor, and every day the Cylons jam the transmission. I've asked for the inside source to tell us which of the Cylon jamming frequencies are the weakest, but so far, I got nothing."

"Then we keep trying! They're out there, it's just a matter of time." Anders snorted and rolled his eyes, clearly the colonel's faith in Admiral Adama was much stronger than his own.

**New Caprica Police Precinct – Dedication Ceremony**

The concrete and steel structure was built in record time thanks to the labor of centurions who never tired, never needed to break for food or rest. Brilliantly colored banners and standards festooned the walls, a massive standard displayed the symbol of New Caprica hung behind the podium up on stage where several of the humanoid Cylons congregated awaiting the start of the ceremonies.

Three rows of chairs, twenty across were placed for the human police officers and members of the ministry. Uniformed officers entered the chambers without the black face masks they used to conceal their identities from their fellow humans who regarded them as traitors. Here within the secure facility they were able to walk about without fear of being identified. They mingled and made small talk with various humanoid Cylons, while waiting for ministry officials to show up. Within minutes, President Gaius Baltar arrived under heavy security. He made his way through the room, shaking hands with many of the human police officers. He eventually made his way to a raised platform that contained several chairs for VIP's. He was soon joined by a Doral and Cavil model who sat to his left.

"Good morning Mr. President." greeted Cavil.

"Good morning Mr. Cavil, this is an exciting day for New Caprica, is it not?"

Cavil's eyes shone brightly as his lips formed a knowing smile. "Oh, you have no idea!" If Baltar was momentarily confused by the response, it was Doral's facial expression that clearly disturbed him.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage...am I missing something?"

"We'll soon see, Mr. President." chuckled Cavil.

John "Scalper" Henderson was a Tauron native who had thought he finally escaped the boring life of a farmer when he enlisted in the Colonial Marines. His first taste of combat came on a mining colony whose contract workers decided to halt work and prevent the transport of valuable ore that was used in research for advanced propulsion systems aboard Colonial battlestars. They had successfully held off the contract security firms hired by the military for weeks when a high ranking officer at Picon Fleet Headquarters decided enough was enough and ordered a marine strike force to put down the striking workers.

The fighting was surprisingly difficult as the workers were well entrenched, and familiar with every inch of the facility. When the marines finally broke through the defenses, sixteen of their comrades had been killed by improvised explosive devices, needless to say they were not happy, and used extreme force against the untrained, yet well entrenched and armed strikers. At one point, the fighting became hand to hand, and the strikers were ruthlessly cut down by the well trained marines looking to extract vengeance, and regain control of the facility.

In one brutal confrontation, Henderson had been separated from his weapon while engaged with two strikers. Unsheathing his combat knife, a twelve inch black stainless steel blade with a double-serrated back edge, he plunged it deep between the third and fourth rib of the large attacker, penetrating the heart. With incredible strength he twisted the blade violently and ripped it back out as the attacker dropped to the ground dead. Grabbing a huge fistful of hair from the second attacker who stood shocked by the gruesome killing of his co worker, Henderson swung the blade like a scyth, removing hair, skin and flesh from the man's head. Marines who witnessed the act bestowed the nickname _**Scalper**_ upon him.

Entering the new precinct house, Henderson made his way along the perimeter, using care not to draw any undue attention. His eyes quickly spotted Baltar, and he slowly made his way in that direction, occasionally stopping to smile and shake hands with other members of the New Caprica police, many of them not entirely sure if they new him, yet warmly shook his hands or clasped his shoulder. He was now within a dozen feet of the president he viewed less as a collaborator, and more of a traitor. The detonator was concealed within the cuff of his left sleeve, with the wiring running up the arm and into the bulky cold-weather uniform coat he wore. Almost all of the officers had removed their coats once reaching their seats, his window of opportunity was at its greatest, yet he wanted to get closer. Locking eyes with Baltar, he gave a warm smile and made his way over to where he was seated.

"Mister President, it's an honor to see you again!" said Henderson by way of greeting. The look of annoyance was barely restrained by Baltar, as the officer approached with right hand stretched out. Gaius Baltar had hated these events, and very seldom mingled with anyone outside of his small circle of trusted advisers, socialators and the command humanoid Cylons. He detested shaking hands with anyone, and kept both arms at his side as he stood.

"The honor is mine, to attend the ceremony of this new precinct house. If not for the dedication of you fine officers, the terrorists who refuse to integrate peacefully into our new society would have brought death upon us all. Please forgive me though...I cannot recall your name." said Baltar trying to search his memory.

"That would be John Henderson, mister president." interrupted Cavil. "Otherwise known as "Scalper" I believe." A look of surprise immediately flashed across Henderson's face as he swung his head towards Cavil. Within the moment it took for him to snap his left arm straight down in order to bring the detonator trigger into his palm, Aaron Doral fired several shots into the the would-be-bomber's shoulder. The large caliber rounds obliterated the clavicle and scapula in an instant, and with that, the complete severing of the brachial plexus and other nerves that help move the arm. Baltar dropped to the floor at the thunderous sound of the gun discharging less than five feet from his head. Henderson was thrown back into the raised stage that contained the podium that the speakers would talk from. He was now flat on his back, writhing in pain, his left arm dangling by strands of bone and sinew. Centurions now appeared, and were soon hovering about the badly bleeding Henderson. "Bring him to his feet, centurion!" ordered cavil stepping up onto the stage. One of the two centurions on the stage quickly brought Henderson, who by now was in shock from the trauma and blood loss to his feet and held him there.

"What's going on here?" stammered Baltar frantically.

"All is under control mister president," assured a smiling Cavil. "Our security had Mr. Henderson here under surveillance since his arrival. His intentions were not one of a celebratory nature I would say." Cavil made a show to inspect the dangling arm, then forcibly opened up the now blood stained coat which revealed a suicide vest.

"Is that a- a bomb?" asked a shocked Baltar.

"I believe it is." replied Cavil. He unbuttoned the clasps, and the vest dropped forward where Cavil caught it. "I'd like to take a closer look at this." He then turned towards the other centurion. "Oh, by the way, I think I'll need the detonator...centurion, be so kind as to remove this man's arm. Just be careful not to cut that red wire, however." With a sickening snap, the centurion ripped off what was left holding the arm to what was left of the shoulder, Henderson's blood-curdling scream could be heard throughout the chamber. Cavil gently removed the wired detonator trigger from the sleeve and then let the arm drop to the floor with a sickening thud. "Oh yes...bring Mr. Henderson with us, I have a few questions to ask him once we've stemmed his blood loss." ordered Cavil somewhat distracted. As Baltar's entourage and Cavil left the building, the centurions carried out Scalper on a stretcher that was immediately procured for the injured would-be bomber. They were almost at the transport vehicle when a shot rang out. John Henderson's skull exploded, sending blood, bone and brain matter in all directions. Cavil merely frowned, and continued to walk on.


	76. Chapter 76

Chapter 76.

"_What the frak went wrong?"_ demanded Tigh angrily. Tyrol and Anders stood uneasily in the cramped setting of their underground bunker. Matt Lensherr stood with his arms crossed, trying to make sense of what just happened.

"They were waiting for him." replied Anders bitterly.

"That's a load of fraken felgercarb and you know it!" yelled Tigh, his arms gesticulating wildly. "How could they possibly have known we were going to hit the ceremony, or that Scalper would be the trigger?"

"I don't know, colonel...but they _were_ waiting for him!" replied Tyrol matter-of-factly.

"Someone talked!" accused Anders.

"Who knew the exact mission details?" asked Tigh.

"The four of us in this room, Crixus and Nightstalker." replied Lensherr now speaking up.

"Crixus took down Scalper before he could be interrogated." offered tyrol. Paul Nix had been stationed close to the precinct with orders to take out any of the ministry officials that might have survived the blast and attempted escape. Unfortunately, Scalper was never able to carry out his mission, and Nix made the split second decision to put the badly injured would-be bomber out of his misery before the Cylons could extract resistance information through torture. As Scalper was carried out by the centurions, Nix focused the sight of his sniper rifle square on Scalper's forehead and squeezed the trigger. The 7.62mm round struck just above the left eye, blowing the brains out the back of the skull, thus depriving the Cylons of a prisoner to extract secret information, and putting Henderson out of his misery from his severed arm..

"Where's Sarnex?" snarled Tigh. The accusatory tone of his voice was unmistakable.

"I don't know, but now that I think about it... he was missing earlier when we bombed the hanger. He was supposed to be there." replied Anders.

"Laddie, yuir not tryin to say that Nightstalker sold us out, are ye?" interrupted Matt angrily.

"I'm not _trying_ to say anything, Hephaestus. Sarnex was awol from the last mission, and now this clusterfrak?! He hasn't been right since the beginning of the occupation." replied Anders.

"What about Peacemaker?" asked Tigh.

"No fraken way, colonel!" snapped Matt. "Jon is one o' us to the bone, just as Mark Sarnex. Besides...Jon had no knowledge that Scalper was the trigger, he was out at Breeder's Canyon when the decision was made, and hadn't been back yet."

"I agree with Matt, sir." added Tyrol. "Peacemaker is solid, although Sarnex..." he paused. "Sarnex has always been a tough one to figure out."

"Well I for one never fully trusted that smart-ass." groused Tigh. "Gods-damned intelligence operatives are like a pack of lying socialtors."

"Well we better regroup post fraken haste, lads. We took our shot at Baltar and missed. Ye can be sure he's not gonna show his face any time soon." said Matt.

"No doubt the Cylons are gonna increase their patrols now." added Anders.

"First things first...find Sarnex! If he doesn't have an alibi, then he's our mole, and if that's the case...he's dead!" said Tigh. The meeting adjourned, and Matt walked back to his tent with a sickening feeling in his gut.

**Sector Delta two – Colonial Viper Drill**

"_Galactica, Kat. It is a mess out here. We got decoy drones heading every which way. Request instructions...over." _

"Roger that, Kat. Abort acknowledged. You're approaching bingo fuel anyway. Bring your birds back home." ordered Karl Agathon, Galactica's executive officer.

Admiral Adama had just stepped into the CIC when he heard the exchange between his CAG and XO. "Belay that!" ordered Adama.

"Kat, Strike my last. Stand by." he looked over to Adama.

"Launch a tanker bird. Let them practice their in-flight refueling before they recover the drones. Have them run the exercise one more time." ordered the admiral.

"16 times now, sir." advised Helo.

"Then the next one will be 17, won't it?" replied Adama gruffly. Helo knew there would be no arguing with Adama over this. He too realized that they had all become soft over the last sixteen months since the last enemy encounter. They had to break through the fog of complacency that had enveloped what remained of the fleet.

"Yes, sir." he turned to Aaron Kelly who was doubling as LSO and tactical officer and spoke. "Launch the tanker."

**Commander's Quarters – Battlestar Pegasus**

Lee was flabbergasted as he listened to the exchange between the flagship and the vipers out training. "Tanker? What the frak are they doing over there?" He walked over to his desk and picked up the receiver, punching in the code for the CIC. The communications officer quickly answered. "This is the Commander. Get the Admiral on the line!"

The exchange between father and son over the wireless had followed a predictable path of late, the emotion in each of their voices barely kept in check.

"Admiral, considering how long our pilots have been in the air, I suggest we recall the birds and scrub the training exercise." said Lee somewhat condescendingly. The elder Adama reacted immediately with a burst of barely controlled fury.

"_If we can't do this in a training scenario, how the hell are we supposed to pull this off with Cylon raiders on our asses?! __Huh? Tell me! __**" **_shot back the admiral.

"What the frak do you want from me? I don't know how we're supposed to do any of this crap at half-strength!" replied Lee acidly. The main speaker in the CIC crackled, and Kat's voice filled the momentary pause during father and son's conversation.

"_Collision! We've had a collision. __**" **_The elder Adama threw down his receiver in frustration, severing the line with the Pegasus. _"Galactica, Kat. I'm declaring an emergency. Requesting priority landing for two bent birds." _

"Pull 'em in!" ordered an angry Adama.

**Later, in Admiral Adama's Quarters**

"It's a hard thing to say, but it seems like I don't know who my son is anymore. Same goes for the crew of the ship. I feel pretty much alone. Except maybe for you." confessed Adama, handing Sharon Valerii a cup of tea. The guards no longer remained in the room when the two would meet, nor was the humanoid Cylon prisoner manacled. Sharon seemed more guest than prisoner over the last six months, and Adama seemed to rely on her more and more as his own personal sounding board.

Sharon chuckled and replied "I wish I could go back a year and tell _that _Admiral Adama about this conversation."

"A year's a long time." he replied.

"Can I ask you something? Very personal." Adama looked at her quizzically, then gestured for her to continue. "Do you feel guilty about leaving the people behind on New Caprica?"

"I don't do guilt." he replied bluntly.

"You know, a year ago - when you put me in the cell - I was at a crossroads." she began, looking up at the ceiling as if trying to pull the words out of the air. "I sat in here for weeks, just consumed with rage at all the things that had happened to me. And at some point, I realized it was all just guilt. I was angry at myself for the choices I had made. Betraying my people. And losing the baby. So...I had a choice. I could either move forward or stay in the past. But the only way to move forward... was to forgive myself. You know, I don't think we can survive. I don't think... the fleet or Galactica or the people on New Caprica can survive... unless the man at the top finds a way to forgive himself."

William Adama felt he had been kicked in the gut by a horse. What did she _just_ say? He had been searching for months for an answer to his inner question of what was eating at his very core, his soul. Sharon Valerii had been a sleeper agent amongst them from the very beginning as a rookie Raptor pilot who he almost personally drummed out of the Raptor program because she kept messing up her landings. The one sitting in front of his cross-legged on his couch was not the same Valerri that came aboard his Battlestar several years earlier, but a copy. The original, whose call sign was Boomer was killed by a member of Tyrol's deck gang. That had seemed like a lifetime ago to Adama.

**Resistance Headquarters**

"Okay, it's working. I think." said Tyrol adjusting the modulator knob. 

"Is it working or isn't it?" groused Tigh not bothering to hide his irritability.

"They keep jamming us, colonel." snapped Tyrol . 

"Keep on it Chief, that Raptor is up there!"

Raptor 1 was presently floating dead in orbit of _New Caprica _in order to not get picked up by Cylon dradis systems. Nina Nintius had volunteered to fill in for Skulls, who was Racetrack's regular ECO. 

"Ten minutes left. And lots of nothing on the wireless, as usual." yawned Nintius. 

"Just keep an eye out for Raiders." warned Racetrack. "Last listening bird almost got popped by a pair of raiders yesterday."

**Resistance Headquarters**

"Frak yes...It's working. It's working." announced Tyrol. "Our contact came through with the right frequency, we're able to broadcast in the clear."

"Hurry the frak up, chief. Make your transmission burst short and sweet." advised Tigh, hovering over the table containing the wireless radio.

**Raptor 1**

"Time's up. Spin up the FTL and get ready to go." 

Nina immediately put her fingertips to the side of her helmet, as if she could reach in and touch her ear. _"Hold on. I'm picking something up!"_

"Whaddya got, Nina?" asked Racetrack.

"It's a Colonial transmission. It's a low power signal, but... the recognition codes match. Oh, yeah. We got a link to the ground." cheered Nina slapping the console side.

"Okay, send the coded response. Spin up the drive, and let's get the hell back to Galactica! Said Racetrack smiling as she prepared to jump out of orbit.

**Resistance Headquarters**

"Oh man, we're getting a return signal already. A Raptor just made contact with us." shouted Tyrol.

"What's it say? Replied Tigh with a hint of excitement.

Tyrol finished jotting down the message on a notepad beside the wireless. "We will make contact with this frequency every twelve hours. Prepare sitrep for command authority. Have hope. We're coming for you."

**Combat Information Center – Galactica**

The excitement in Racetrack's voice was barely contained as Aaron Kelly put Raptor 1's transmission over the loud speaker. _"We made contact. I say again, we made contact with the ground. Colonel Tigh has formed an insurgent group against the Cylons, and now they're ready and waiting for instructions on how to coordinate the rescue effort."_


End file.
